The brain churned into air, no more declared
Than soft felt breezes at the fingertips.
It's come again, stale textured thoughts from sips
To gulps, but white blandness, what I repulse,
A ringing of dry, mediocre climax.
My friend, my friend, visiting so soon
Leave me now, 'fore I am added to nothing.
A ladder in the distance? What I see now
A ditch I have been living, diving in,
A shallow one from the higher view I wear,
That I have been breathing through a straw —
Suffocation to coughed up water,
A fallout to another ditch, though larger.
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