The movement I’ve heard around me
I’ve begun to feel
I’m bleeding and tired
I’m praying and cold
Time may not be of consequence anymore

Is this oxygen or opinion?
A winter’s bloom
Leaves streaks of crimson across the snow
Mercy cancelled eyes are indistinct
From ones like yours
Trees begin to outnumber buildings
As we drive to nowhere
Around the sleeping masses

I can’t sense parts of my body
Hands like two stones
They’re turning up voices
while turning on lights
I’m not sure if I‘m concerned now

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