it is quiet.
saturday morning - 5 Pm.
he sleeps to my right, but i am alone.
i awoke not long ago too.
haggard.
fatigued.
the air conditioner mushing on.
i am gelatinous.
my head, jelly.
my thoughts, slushy and thick.
i sip on the mcdonald iced coffee that the dog and i procured not long ago on our arduous voyage OUT. at which time she sniffed , and breathed, and inquired while i muddled forward begrudgingly - seeking relief from caustic rays in patches of darkened cement.
why do my guts feel like hulking water balloons?
why is my blemished face bristly?
why do i not know what to do?
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