This Feeling


This feeling that’s crept into every nook and cranny, that doesn’t sleep, but loves it when I do because dreamers never sleep. This feeling that lives at the corners of my smile and in the cracks of my exterior. This feeling that mingles itself with words then sings songs and speaks on the TV screen and flows from the mouths of oblivious passersby. This feeling that cares nothing for my life, but cares only for the life it bountifully leads in the grave it’s making of me.

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