You're too much of a good thing,
I said,
And so am I.
When I talk to you, I make it sound like destiny.
I slept on a floor,
In a living room.
Lately the place has gotten
quite dusty, and
given me the incentive to vacuum.
Life got in the way,
but, but, but and but.
I never did, and pulled my
sleeping bag closer to my face
each night.
Fuck it I cried out
on the last day.
I yanked out
the chord and paced the room,
music exploding in my head.
That night I closed
the door on my clean living
room floor bed,
and did not sleep
there. Fuck my life.
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