walking days

by mistersoto

away from the aftermath
the slow down
eye ache
distinguishing
the imagined
from the real
in his hands
what was left
was a record of attendance
and some numbers
printed but fading
on a balance sheet
arid afternoons
subduing
bitterness and
distinguishing
the face of a clock
from a pie chart
his approximations
unravelling
the scorch
of an emptied promise
choices and calculations
of early evening
the tired gravity
tugging
beneath the epidermis
concluding
with no conclusions

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