crashed into a hole
but you talk about the depth
in mute words
feeling just as soulless
as your television screen
with its timed adverts
and its talk shows
and you drown
and drown in mist
but you're circled by vultures
whose shrill cries
say get yourself together
since you should know better
so you go with exhalation
and reach for expiration
and long for oblivion
and twirl into night
until some shapeless change
rips apart the grey
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