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Everyday’s the same:wake up
do some stuff
try to not fuck upgo to sleep. go to sleep
go to sleep I can, but the
waking up is hard, dunno why.
Sure, there are the excuses
(I’m a master)
Sure, there are the reasons
(I’m at their mercy)
But there’s something
sliding between them
that is why, actually why
and I can’t find it, I
can’t pin it down, I can’t
help it, I can’t fight
it, but there I go
making excuses again.
But it’s real and it’s here,
and everyday I put a
death grip on it,
rip myself awake,
smoke my coffee, and
drink my smoke floats
away and my grip
loosens until
it’s lost diffused,
clouded under dreams
banished to sleep forever.
This is my reality
This is my morning
This is fucking my GPA
“This is my future at
stake” I snore, and
I just talk in my sleep
“Duane,” I say,
“loosen up, you must
need it.” but I don’t.
No one should, this is
cruel and demoralizing,
every morning it bites again,
but every night I have to
set myself back up for it.
And so it goes
and so I go
drifting, nodding, sliding
back under the black
velvet curtain of
that beautiful oblivion.

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