Awake, sipping watery chicken soup,
perhaps should have added that cream,
a lot less water,
should have made the effort,
rolled from the sofa to the floor,
called, risen to my knees,
shook and awakened,
listened, truly listened,
made a search for symptoms online,
made the fucking call, in time,
and then, not this -
not this purgatory,
not this watery soup
when time has lost all meaning,
and days go down the drain,
down the drain like the lives
we let fall past us our fingers,
our own with them.
31.07.2017-08.10.2020
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