Dead Air 

the only escape from imagination came from the healing of the body during sleep. the wake from lucid dreams of happiness that rendered ignorance for just a minute 

enough for a tsunami of memories to hit harder than the foot running away, slapping pavement 

it’s impossible to run through dead air 

silence takes a slow and sweet stride, molasses that’s hard to swallow 

and choking on realization, the day dresses any thought in sadness and regret 

it’s hard to breathe and the dead air makes ignorance look pretty 

but pretty doesn’t cut it in a mind that wants perfection 

how to heal becomes a quest that is tiring to pursue 

and dead air is always there, waiting to scratch cracks in the half full glass 

every morning the forgetful mind wakes, ready for a new day 

beaten back by truth, the easiest pill to overdose 

and after bruised face lifts, dead air deals the final blow 

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