I stare at those empty words that

take on a life of their own.

They have lost gravity,

scrambled,

like the scenes that flash right before my eyes.

Familiarity attached itself to confusion

and dreams of impossibility.

Yearning, craving, haunting…

Crash

goes the metal spoon out of my

hands, making me

jump

a little, as the book stares back

at me.

 

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