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IN THE MORNING

time creeps into the induction rings; they tick

and the tick has the echo of a hollow place made from soup tins and

tinnitus, n.: a constant awareness of a fourth dimension

evident as a subtle sub-dermal comet singing, just behind the inner ear. i.e.:

“you should never have the volume too loud at school, no matter how much

you don’t want to listen.”


-


I can hear them from across the water

but the steam from the dog bowl has become

unbearable, adj.: a personal experience

evident in the door of the fridge. i.e.:

“I’m so blind I can no longer see the butter in my eyes.”


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a version of Ted, which is not Ted, tilts his head,

flinches when I drop the fork between my toes.

painful, adj.: a constant experience of a feeling

which ruminates in the lower back on a semi-recurring basis. i.e.:

“one should never sweep floors for too long,

or too thoroughly.”


-


Ted eats his breakfast and I drink my tomato soup.

it’s eight-thirty, the house is quiet for the first time in six weeks.

empty, adj.: an inherent, indirect feeling that feigns

a deceptively sweet taste which eventually is too sweet to be pleasant. i.e.:

“I’m starting to understand how it feels to be a lead based paint;

a slow lightheaded killer – blue spray mist on a brain.”


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Netflix in the living room takes longer to load

than it does on my bedroom computer, which is always turned

on, prep.: a backwards sound that implies the opposite of its opposite. i.e.:

“a face in the mirror is not the same

 as the face which looks at itself.”


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the tooth brush has recently become an effort too far

for the tooth paste to exert itself. not that either can reach my

wisdom teeth, n. pl.: a set of awkwardly placed soft sculpt diamonds,

set in the backmost ridge of the jaw line. generally uncomfortable. i.e.:

“how long does it take before you can see

bones protruding from the pictures of people you love?”