pANDEMIC eCCENTRIC
Poetry Guest User Poetry Guest User

pANDEMIC eCCENTRIC

I hope things never go back to how they were. That normal wasn’t normal. Lost to digitized history seemed to be leisure with gravity, interstitial tranquility. The accuracy of vacancy. Nilness.

I want to lose track of days and check the time only to be surprised at the lateness of the hour. Dusk looming, innocent as a satellite.

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