routine

a life of routine
is an empty thing.
a groundhog day.
a joke of belief.

you become a ghost,
or some parasite’s host,
and your shadow
is haunting yourself
the most.

doomed in some limbo
to hold dear to it all.
to tune out the writing
on your cerebral wall.

subsistence was not meant
to persist quite like this.
dismiss your rehearsal.
pandemonium is bliss.

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