Benjamin K Duncan
Reality has forgotten my existence.
And I've forgotten her's,
She remembers I think.
Sun screams through a window.
To stun from slumber.
The blankets feel warm, outside so cold.
Forced from sanctuary.
Coffee so bland.
Toast stale and tasteless.
The sun asphyxiates
Me from the morning
A golden hand at my throat.
Rays rusting my eyes,
Beat and bash furiously;
My stop, their stop, our stop.
We're all enslaved to work,
Like ants busying about tunnels.
Digging. Sifting. Smelling.
Exchanging awkward glances.
Biting the truth through a thumbnail.
We'll be safe, it won't happen.
These people can't hear the scream
Don't buy what they're selling.
A whisper breaks through the perpetual noise,
A light, a flash for an instance.
Her, she's gone again.
I didn't even;
I don't want to.
I'll tell myself again and again,
And a million times again.
I've forgotten, it's her who remembers.
In the bleakness of existence
She is the reached hand;
To care, caress.
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