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In Memoriam of Reading Plays by Anton Chekhov at Midnight
The sheer ridiculousness of it all is funny
Next September is the midpoint on the line segment
And after that I’m mostly done
On some days I want
Out
Out
Out
And on the other days
I’m dependent and I want to be kept in
Like Kafka’s bird that went in search of a
Cage
Today is one of those days I’m just
Sick
Of
It
All
Not that I won’t miss it when it’s gone.
I miss everything when it’s gone.
I hate change.
This year I learned I can’t deal with:
Emotions
People
Life
Work
Basically I’m ill equipped for lifting anything that weighs more than my spirits
Or unequipped for life
But that’s okay I have time
Or something
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