SEVENTY-FIVE

i said this would be the last time.
this would be the last time i took this walk.
in a city as big as this you can expect to never walk a walk again.

 

and yet.
everything is broken.

 

and here i am
walking the walk.
but not talking the talk.
no talking at all.

 

and yet a year after
what is scattered now will return as routine.
though the door will be different.
but The Door will forever be in my shadow.
in present tense.

 

sooner or later.
one never knows.

now does one.

 

now does

 

one.

 

now

 

does

 

one.

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