if I could be more like you

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it throws me over, a sudden fatigue, and paralyses restless ambition. throws me over and drags me out to sea where I drown in impossible dreams. the thought of hours melting away consumes me and holds me down and small stones blend with the blood on my knees. thoughts form slowly as weekends come crashing down. the mind is dead, the writing poor and the streets are vibrating, whispering, running fingers through my long brown hair. lightstreams shaking at the crossing.

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