Laying on a brown sofa; my mind is muddied. Languishing in the effects of an ill-spent day. Future setbacks carving holes before there was structure to take from. Appointments are made, postponed and then missed. Conversations are held not in words but the silences in the midst. Shuffling bodies on seats, undetectable glances.
Plans and obligations lay before me like pencil marks on white paper, pinpointing the space between the previous and the next. So on, so forth and no more.
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