Intuitively, she knew that bolded existence wasn't as slicing as the western winds and the settings of the phone she called herself on every night, just to be sure that it worked. It was still a dull sensation, though, with her nails sharpened into a point to match her teeth and her eyelashes, that began to pulse in her threaded undershirt and in the middle of her empty sheets. It seemed like it was wandering just as far as the smiles that were showing in the theatre across the street. She pocketed her inspiration to save it for a rainy day on the other side of the globe, with a lonely bird watching her as she sung its tune. Like understanding and misinterpretation, she was a misguided fantasy that seemed to slip into all the wrong brains at all the right times.
The clock keeps striking. It seems like it's time to wake up.
But the longer she watched
as the buildings around her rippled
down
along
the
empty
street
extinguishing every light that could have ever burned at all
she realized that the future might have already passed completely
and that
she might have to wait for history to repeat itself.
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