The Piecemeal Man (abmann) wrote,
The Piecemeal Man
abmann

The Doorway Melts and Tomorrow Blends Unto and Unto

It’s when I wake up in the earliest light and my eyes are myopic with sleep that everything looks like tomorrow. The floors walk with light to the bedroom door and it melts away, reconstructs, melts, and I let my eyes feign focus until the sun is up and unto the day my eyes can lead.

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