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  • Even in my dreams I strive.
    As I lay watching the minutes dissipate, I become awake
    and more aware.
    It’s the core of the night.
    Ever notice how obvious life is at 4am?
    In my vision, I scream until my throat bleeds.
    The book reads,
    “It’s emotionally barbarity to continue in this manner”
    Conception before creation.
    The desire to write has no regard for sleep.
    Although I reside independently,
    the Universe is parenting me.
    It has indicated what will and will not be.
    Today:
    I inhaled the dusty scent of him
    unwashed and reworn.
    His socks spilled out the torn backs of cheap soles.
    Tears streamed, he listened. Then he hurt me again.
    I am being broken in plain sight.
    Voluntarily.
    suffocating on sorrows
    I ran out of tears. There’s an inner-deficit.
    I’ve learned:
    Declarations mean nothing.
    Spoken words are just air, the invisible smoke of inactivity.
    Remember, that which is not meant, will not exist.
    Our paths are perpendicular
    People don’t hurt people. Choices do.
    I get a call. She is a jobless single mother.
    $40 is a fix. Her pride rides shotgun.
    Necessity drives the question.
    Her son is three, I will give her money.
    Even though lies roll off her tongue.
    You give, if and only if, you have
    Her diagnosis is Pseudologia fantastica.
    It’s a real.
    Google it.
    Unlike this woman’d-girl, I have not lied to you.
    My truth is in plain site.
    Under a pseudonym.
    All I know at 4am is that I am changing.
    I have no other option.
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