There is only quiet wind,
outside my window
the world sleeps,
car horns beep
at far away distances,
too far to mean
anything,
the street is dully lamplit,
only a man, I can't see
can feel the pavement,
under his feet, as he
walks by like a street cat,
the air in
my room is still,
it breaths me in
slowly, and I sit,
trying to live
on paper
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