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Death And Incoherence
He awoke
in much the same way
he drifted into sleep
incoherently.
reaching for the milk pitcher
as he would for a beer
his head down
& expecting a full
heady brew
after dressing accordingly
in funeral attire
he looked at the mirror
in himself
at his hands
removed his watch
from his wrist
unaware the time he had
anyhow.
poem
by
Ben Myles
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