I read dictionaries often. Trying to find the exact word to describe you. A to Z, To Z and back.. What a useless piece of commodity, What use is English any more? When words are scarce, how useless are essays inside my head? Of things unsaid, of thoughts murdered, of fake faces put up through every winter mist and every leftover coffee. Of reflections in the mirror. I burn my lips musing about unimportant things. It hurts a little. I stub my cigarette out on the window sill.
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