11; for early, for late.

faulty prescription, two pills down.
I used to blame a lot on these suckers.
I don’t make a fuss,
I’m that kind of guy.
so I used to wander in an apartment that always looked bigger
when I was high,
so I used to see the old things change,
purple bruise of the sky undresses me
to a pale pink thing as the sun rises.
that sorry hour of night when packages aren’t moving, I
sit in a soma and stew, waiting.
coiled,
there was always a moment in the meets
the meets I no longer see
the cheers that fade from my view
there was always a moment where
before the sweat and blood ate the chalk into your body
you considered the possibility of failure
or maybe that’s just me
heaviness rooting you to the ground
mortality
or just mortal
makes me want to rip the quiet from the floor,
back into my head again.

-C.

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