for the first time in a long while
i have never seen my future
in a crystal ball over which
a madam waves her hands
to frighten me. last night
i saw nothing but timbers falling
and my mind was left white
when all the brush was cleared.
here there's no complexity
or no desire to seek specters
from whence i shall go:
there was only my bed
and the curiousness of waking up
only an hour after falling asleep.

instead of calling in sick
i decided to call in dead—

that's the excuse for those committed.

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