i know the imperceptible displacements of secular movements. simply put: it is the way things change and the way time passes. close your eyes, count to ten, open your eyes and spot the difference. close them again, this time for a moment longer. if you choose to open your eyes will you notice the difference? you do, don’t you? this feeling you’re sitting with is almost inarticulate. beyond some cosmic metaphor, how else am i to describe it? its longing and loss against the possibility of the plausible. i would’ve been disappointed in change if it hadn’t worked out for me at some point. some change is impoverishing, some is lucrative. some are lipstick stains on a night i choose to remember or cigarette ashes blending into concrete. the mess of it all: headaches and dreams and episodes and highs and moments. and then we move forward. a new bed to sleep in, when did i stop sleeping in daisy sheets? i had a phase of orange- but those sheets are stained with him. and it seems like all that matters now is if my head hits a pillow. remember the novelty of multicolored lights? faded like the novelty of growing up.

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