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Talking In My Ear

Looking down into my cup I see a reflection of a silhouette. A silhouette that should be full, yet not. A silhouette that is surrounded by beings yet stagnant in the choas. The everlasting drone in the air drags the silhouette deeper into the cup. The walls growing higher and higher until floating in a puddle of isolation. I take the last swig of my drink and escape through the side door. A cigarette hist on my lips as I strolled home trying remember why I went out at all.          

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