The trees breathe
down in the garden
I pause my lungs
running on fumes
I want to work
but the world seems unconvinced
As I begin to speak
a howling sigh of wind
Snuffs out the spark 
of my feeble dream
I’m covered in cobwebs
in my waiting room…

A strange amorphous shape
swells and swallows
Even the vaguest sketch 
of hope I can muster
I can’t seem to shake 
this cloud magnetic
...

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