the bearing screams while i sit silent

the car outside
has a terrible squeak
a bearing likely
screaming out
orangish red from
a lack of grease
causing dissent
in the other tightly
packed bearings
slowly degrading
the immaculate silence
of a thursday morn

i look out
onto a world of
static gray
an immense heaviness
draping the houses
the incessant whine
from the sputtering
little blue car
belching carbon monoxide
drowning out
the sparrows song
leaves me wanting
another hour in bed
nestled among
the pillows
wrapped tightly in
gray blankets
a derelict home
for loving dreams

mercifully the noise
trails off
as the car putters away
and i sit
fully dressed
yet unprepared
for another trip
to the same places
the same faces
will greet me
with imbecile stares
as the words drip
down the back of my throat
longing for predawn
when anything
was still possible
before reality
asserted its will

it all went wrong
when i realized
there was no coffee
the bearing spun
in inanimate agony
reflecting off
the gray skies
staring down
without a hint of remorse
at a fool trying
to cling to the kiss
broken up by that
damnedable alarm
unable to enjoy
a momentary embrace
of immaculate silence
just the lingering
memory of waking alone

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