I’ve been on cruise control. Sleeping later and later. Staying up for no reason at all. Going to bed and reading. As long as the light’s on, my dog demands I scratch his belly. When I shut off the light, I try to convince him to hang but he fucks off to his own bed and I roll over and don’t sleep. I get back up and fuck with the fan one more time. Maybe this time I’ll fix that clicking noise.
I’m not supposed to be here. I should be answering email. I should be answering text messages. I should be writing but I don’t know how to start. I bought a notebook and filled it with first sentences. Maybe I can buy another for second sentences. Maybe I’ll fill boxes with composition notebooks. They’re 97 cents. Why not.
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