I don't wanna face the day.
I don't
the day.

dreams of being on top
of the game, putting pen
onto paper as second nature,

cranking out words of wisdom, turning
pyrotechnic tricks with
sentences of mad run-on
phrases, fantasies run amok,
briefly interrupted by

another piece
telling the world that I am 
awake, that I have 
something to say,
that in an existence
of crowds and consent,
I stand alone, shooting my 
mouth off and
getting away with it 
because that 
is what 
I do.

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