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perpetual loop

For what could be more tempting
Than embracing a cold bed
Succumbing to idleness letting
Thoughts drown in whispers

Of orchestrated solemnity played
By murmurings of air-conditioning
Fading engines of morning starting
And furniture mocking stillness

Yesterday promising of repeating

Scalding bath replacing
a mother nagging
when one’s too young to give up
saving what’s long been dead and loving
art, sounds which refuses to be tamed

moving heedlessly from one task to the next and
back again until tomorrow waits no more
and you remarry the mattress.