There are always kinks in my plans.
Poisons in my remedies.
Sitting on the bus.
Staring.
Focus wavering.
Blank, empty fields flitting by.
My own blank stare, darkened circles underneath the empty gaze.
Leaving me alone with my thoughts,
The loud ones.
The quiet ones.
The dangerous ones.
Who am I kidding, they're all dangerous.
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