A Day of Reckoning and Night

A look of death

A look of death, your face is white–
I do not ask, to be polite;
Instead I comment on my day
And grasp for other things to say.
Your eyes don’t ever meet my sight.
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You Tell Yourself Repeatedly, “But This is Just a Phase”

Simple becomes scary with but very little prodding
As ghosts of mem’ries mingle in a cloudy soup of haze
Suddenly you realize that you haven’t slept in days
Simple becomes scary with but very little prodding
—-Conscious cunning working out what subconscious is plotting
It seems there’s more than one dimension built into this maze
Simple becomes scary with but very little prodding
As ghosts of mem’ries mingle in a cloudy soup of haze

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Because Russ L asked

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