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It was the hour past, and I wasn't interested in competing anymore.

Updated on June 25, 2017
Everett Bradley profile image

Everett Bradley, convincingly or not, doesn't do much else other than write and read.

She was never that easy to maintain.
Months at a time
(Only months at a time)
My self-regulation would lose a cog
and suddenly I could watch it all crumble as though it was minutes at a time.

Like a vociferous advocate of repetition,
Repetition for sleep.
To wake.
To school.
To work.
Repetition for me
For my health.

Like shoving a shape into a sound
the only person close enough to listen
the only person close enough to hear
Is the only person to apply themselves to this metaphor
broken and slowly ticking
reverberating
like years at a considerable amount of time,
if I had enough years to be considerable.

Lulled into a numb awakening
forced into a sleep with the pain of needles.

And if it's not that, surely the other.
And if it's not that, surely neither.
A true routine.
The routine of a winner.
Who wants as many obstacles to practice on.
To develop.

I've received enough practice here.
I'd like to develop elsewhere.
Like floorboards wanting to become walls
Like the earth wanting to turn inside out.

Like trying to scream a sound into matter.
Sound into shape.
My sound won't take shape.

This is a true fear.
This is true alchemy.

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