I used to wash my hands raw no less than three times an hour threshold
and I could never
get under the covers
of someone else's unmade bed
sometimes the light outside
is too bright
and my heart does not allow me
to cross my own non existent
other times I look at old postcards
with tilted sailboats
from a land with no water
and am crippled by a sense
of time passing without me
somewhere
a car lurches forward
into another
and I swear I can feel it too
(I swear I can feel it all)
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