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Coming to.
Black, dragging
In slow increments
To a dark,
Tarnished silver.
Below the window,
The first, occasional
Car swishes,
Saying rain.
The square flat
Stare of the ceiling
Growing paler.
Familiar things
Resolve. I wonder,
Did I sleep? And
Then the remembered
Dream. How many
More dawns?
How many gone?
In the kitchen,
A thick, black jolt
Waits for my finger
On the switch.
Another day.
Let's go.
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