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I’m not quite sure I know how to speak anymore,
My words tend to run out of stamina
Huffing and puffing that there isn’t anymore to say about anything in the world
I ought to stop dwindling away like the last leaves that fall before winter off the trees
I’m not quite sure
When it is I began to feel small
A crumpled grocery list in a back pocket
With the ink now blurry and fading
From the laundry wash
I’m not quite sure,
Why it is I

feel like to talk about what floats around in my mind
Could possibly sustain as irrelevant
I told the girl in my head
Your problems aren’t drastic enough
To be soul weighing
Back slumping problems
There just notes you fold neatly and tuck away and say it’s been alright but not great
I’m not quite sure when the best thing was wasted time
Seeping away into a lazy afternoon
On purpose making no plans
To lie there
Hoping that all there is in the world
Is to find ones selfishness.
I’m not quite sure when it all began to feel apologetically futile
In making amends that this is the slow period
The wait game
The hesitation in chess whether to play a knight or a queen
A breath drawn in
The never ending clock watching of how five minutes
Begins to feel more like 20.

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