What has become of me sitting on the toilet
on Sunday morning reading Frank O
and wondering where the possibility of suprise
lies next after an afternoon hearing
about failing relationships,
the possibility of terror,
the ending and the beginning
and smoking away the time
when being alive is all there is left.
So I get up and place myself
at the end of the race again,
picking up last night's pizza box,
cast away and forgotten
wanting more than anything
to know that I am alive.
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