suffers into morning.
sleeping as everyone
wakes up.
breathing in an old
stale morning air.
What wont be sailing
on the sun through today
is imagination.
Brain dead
listening to music.
Into excessful reckognition
of a junkie swimming
on my path.
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| The last night suffers into morning. sleeping as everyone wakes up. breathing in an old stale morning air. What wont be sailing on the sun through today is imagination. Brain dead listening to music. Into excessful reckognition of a junkie swimming on my path. |
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