the words
are silent today
a lack of sleep
in another
plastic molded
monopoly hotel
in a different
carbon copied citt
at the edge of
a filthy highway
lends a certain
gravitas to
the morning’s
militant malaise

i had to say
was muttered
into the pillow
or shouted at
the ceiling
hours before

three times three
times three again
a fool sputters
out in place

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