Roar of trucks in transport, deliver chairs and papers, with recipients delighting or sighing heavily. What lies within the boxes - a greeting or farewell?
Everything boils down to that.
The envelopes are unopened, stacked and ready for kindling because I don't care what's in them.
I open all the wrappers - they're statements, letters, notices but I didn't care to notice that you were always pulling away.
I felt your vacant stare; your heart was in two states but I hoped I was just imaginative.
My throat is trying to stop this poison I'm ingesting but my mind manufactures it and I must be the one to take the fall for everyone's sake.
Metropolis underfoot. What lies beneath even those dwellings, the mounds of hurried construction, and the weight of their survival?
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