there's a lot of downtime
in the job i have
and in this blank
i fill in musings of the night
why did i say that?
why didn't i speak?
what did he mean?
where did it go wrong?
i stand
scanning the shelves
for something to escape
this interrogation
but the stories turn
their spines aside
no escape in imagination
today
just the wind pressing
against each windowpane
looking for a weakness
to wiggle within
(blank)
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