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In Memoriam of Reading Plays by Anton Chekhov at Midnight

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The sheer ridiculousness of it all is funny
Next September is the midpoint on the line segment
And after that I’m mostly done

On some days I want
Out

Out


Out
And on the other days
I’m dependent and I want to be kept in
Like Kafka’s bird that went in search of a

Cage
Today is one of those days I’m just

Sick

Of

It

All
Not that I won’t miss it when it’s gone.
I miss everything when it’s gone.
I hate change.

This year I learned I can’t deal with:
Emotions
People
Life
Work

Basically I’m ill equipped for lifting anything that weighs more than my spirits
Or unequipped for life
But that’s okay I have time
Or something



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