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Contents from a bedroom

Fallen stacks of shorts, T-shirts, including the one emblazoned with I Am A Writer, I Dream

While Awake. Half-torn envelopes on the desk, credit card statements covered with pens and napkins, the word delinquent carved into my desk.

A computer open to job applications full of loaded questions.

A few pieces of onions and crackers, my last night’s dinner.

The scent of sweat and air freshener, the fan whirling round and round, blowing dust.

A bed with torn and tossed sheets, the hardness of the mattress revealed.

A pair of eyes with ever-deepening rings

Makeup that can’t even make anything up.

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