we
voluntarily cry out
for
vulnerable unconsciousness
at
the
days
tumbled
ellipsis . . .
& if the gift is given
then praise be
~
we disappear somewhere then
somewhere in brackets
that noone proofread
trusting
in
the
walls around us
&
dawns
scheduled
bold font
vtol
that highlights
nights two way mirror
in grey smudge
ready for deletion
with coffee number 1
~
then
the
day
is
there
like a flat tire is there
a hospice of full stops
pretending
to
be
italic
comic sans
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