This morning calls for cavemen
I soullessly respond in grunts and whispers and nods and shrugs
I indulge.
I don’t want…
Taste the overflow -
Brain boiling over.
Pathetic rage floats on top.
Bitter garnish.
Hollow and plastic.
Hollow and plastic.
Hollow, hollow, hollow.
It could be worse.
I should be better.
But the devil dives in inanimate objects
And the devil dances with intense decisions.
But I deal in apathy, hearts in halves
And now:
Silence.
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