Known contributions donate wholly
To the tone of what comes next?
Coagulating noise becomes the burden
Of the hour, when
Repeatedly I acknowledge
The better process to practice.
And yet here I am
Centerstage in the swarm of monotonous
Uselessness.
Books strewn about, waiting
For inky stroking...
To light the fire of incandescence
And burn away old and flaky skins
That coat the conscience
In misery.
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