Seven

February 9, 2011
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Beep.
Beep beep.
Incessant noise grows louder, and slowly rouses me from a delightful reverie.
At first it blends in. The beeping is a time bomb or an alarm,
Something my mind has invented in attempt to keep me quiet.
Louder, louder and the illusion stops making sense. I come to and wish I never had.
I remember school. I remember calculus. I remember lectures and doctors appointments.
I moan and groan, because everything’s so much simpler in a sleepy daze. Everything’s so much warmer.
Hand ventures into the chill. Mind makes an executive decision.
Hand slams down. Beeping stops.
Return to the dream
Until seven fifteen.





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