the debt of the dying
2012-11-05 | 10:49 a.m.
These days I'm so tired and hungry That all emotions register As some vague form of indigestion Varying only in severity. I careen down the daylight Like an insect in repose; Each leg crooked solemnly Towards 3 o'clock. Every vicious calorie ingested Is posthumously converted. A bolt of anxiety. A systematic assault of the senses.
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