Declination

All the regrets don’t make up,
don’t retrieve lost time,
How I remark no future no past,
Remaining hands on a clock,
Spiteful monologues,
Unpaid hours,
To make work may mine?
Maybe it’s escape,
The formula for loneliness,
Been grinding on it for ages,
Like I ever wanted to perfect it,
made entirely of what we avoid talking about,
That’s the conversation,
Friends are long gone from,
And the poetry is not enough,
Full stop.

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