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Thinking, fuck… I don’t want to be out today —
selling plastic bag cases.
I felt hollow,
looking out with no feeling except wanting silence.
But the show must go on.
So off I went.
…….
I found myself in front of Christ —
not at Mass, but at a church.
It’s a meditative place for me.
Sitting there with my eyes closed.
Cell phone off.
Hat off.
Just a few people scattered about.
Me, wanting silence a bit.
I didn’t feel like writing tonight.
I guess people think writers always want to write.
This is why I say I’m not a writer.
This writing thing has just been my way
of dealing with my thoughts.
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