Time is going too fast.
I can’t describe it. The images. Click. Click. Click. The
images on that goddman circle, spiral. That continuum, clicking into place on
that old, borrowed relic in my head. Forehead grown warm, and faint, feint
anxiety wavers in the hollows of my cheeks, in the tippytip touch of my tongue
on my front teeth. And I think of life as film, and not as life. My mind numbs
at the bleak blanche grottiness of all that time ahead and all that time
behind.
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