i can't stand the crowded rooms of
7 doors and several stairs, wooly rugs and high-backed chairs,
dissipate under sidelong glares with every word,
a cocked brow, a complacent smirk; a reek of smug, the t-shirts stained
with liquor from over sized coffee mugs.
the silence, yet, could do me in with thoughts of what those
unspoken words could bring.
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