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I work till days-end,
get quarter-drunk at night.
At 1 a.m. eyes squint at a tongue-tide darkness;
In time, the window’s curtain-edge will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
death's slow lull,
contiguous day so close,
making all thoughts inane, but one that
questions where and when I shall cease
-Pablowilliams 2/10/11 1a.m.
"Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead." — Charles Bukowski