Some days it feels like
all I do is sit on this
couch and write for hours.
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Some days it feels like
all I do is sit on this
couch and write for hours.
Some days it feels like
all I do is sit on this
couch and write for hours.
Home sick, she lies in
bed, stomach queasy, still in
her day-before clothes.
Halloween spirit
eludes me, like the ghost of
someone I once loved.