on sleEpIG and NOT WAking (or terrifyingly prescient and only partially drunk)

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December 4, 2016 by Wayne.

And what if after all
the half-words slip away in sleep
our usual words now reference
each other and not
their meanings before us

How many more roads to freedom?
the ache is past the bones by now
bones and flesh and
heartbreaks and other maladies,
manufactured or otherwise
but moving (on)

is the process of the step, and not the decision to take it
and across the pronation, upon looking back
it is discovered that the gaps between thoughts of
drunken thoughts on drunken nights and
spread across the cold stone bench, the pounding
slows and the sweat grows cold, these gaps
grow longer each time,

In my head, our city was the mountains
growing black across the paddy fields

How many more times do we
wait for the atrophy and say
if i wait long enough this time
my life will change itself for me
? maybe long enough for her
smile (off)

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