Coldness wraps around my skin
the hall is filled with muted voices
a lecturn empty, waiting
I sit and waste time
I sort files, look like I might actually
-just maybe-
be doing something
my eyelids slowly slowly slowy
begin to slide down inch by inch
my eyelashes apparently desperate
to meet each other, embrace
my head is foggy
and shuffles through its paces
a slug in molasses
on an incline
in winter
My eyes threaten to close again
I force myself awake
make busy
I force an unwilling awareness
I write poetry

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