that i cling to
what meaning does it have,
comfortable as it is?
when all is said and done, what will remain
of this pulling, warm, oblivious stupour...
drunk on life, foggy-headed
I fight within myself
alice calls desperately "wake up!"
against the sweet soothing lul
torn between the choices, my weak resolve scatters
lost, muddled, I sit,
not knowing down from up.
* * *
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