Sunday, October 14, 2012

Losing The First Person

The fan, the clock, the blower -
office sounds in the pre-dawn stillness
outside it's dark, not far from frosting.

Here, they aren't really together
some sleeping under medication
some still awake and in need of it.

No one yet thinks to look out a window
for what the day promises or
to determine if it offers anything at all.

A man last night spoke confidently of a second man who lived
his life in a state of constant psychotic terror of the government,
the first man says the second man is better off now - dead.

It's nearly 5:30, the morning reveals nothing
no rebuttal seems forthcoming, only these moments
flowing one into another .

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