The day ends all over

Nothing, void, inertia bordering on despair. Grey skies, grey streets, grey walls. You nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be heard. I thank God for the pills and the wine that put that border in place, lie down and wait for sleep in the afternoon. It doesn’t come, nothing comes, the day ends all over. Same old tedium, same old tedious mystery: the silence that isn’t silence, the voice I wait for that speaks somewhere but fails to come and when it comes is only ever to come. But not even that today, hardly even waiting. Nothing, inertia. Wine, pills, sleep, eventually.

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