Low terminal velocity
Caught between the spokes
In the cyclical life of routine

A half-life
Each day splitting yourself
Between the faded time
And the ominous future

Addicted to something
You’re fixing to be fixed
As the hours drift away in a haze

Staring above
Restless in the night
Even more so in the day
And sleep doesn’t refresh

Been an empty battery for a long time
Taste of copper and acid
Burning your mouth
Cracking your teeth to stave off the pain

Not really sure why
But its safe in your head
At least when its not hurting
It’s where you can find a few seconds
The ones that always seem to slip away



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