an imitation of the inanimate

the fan in the corner is humming and humming and i'm

dreaming of something that i've never had.

wishing and writing and loving and loving and
nothing is real except for
the sound of a stranger laughing like summer
never ends, 
never ends, 
outside of my window
outside of the window of life that i've lived.

i am so small and the
world is so big and my
life is the longest that i'll ever live so i'm
writing and dreaming
of loving,
of loving,
of nothing but someday the way i'll exist
and humming along with the fan in the corner
like nothing, 
like nothing 


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