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the hours the houses now

liquid inhale, the white

walls oscillating to

olive to fluorescent

laundry fluid blue,

the sun rising



time, you can only take so long

I will blame you.




with eyes, searching the room

for people

for voices of people


we hold them

tell them to let go

we mean, “I wish”




“it’s ok”

I too have


no answers. like children

we are still children.




each breath, air-gasped

grasping to fill morphine-groan with

eyebrows pointing furiously at themselves


we only know how to be living.


it’s ok, we all love you. the infamous

echo in antiseptic room


and like a child,

say the words

the IVs drip chronically now

valium silence blankets

room, noise mimics

breathing. we cannot catch

our own until you can not.

for Tommy Dalton 

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