on a train in the badlands

this isn’t happening, it’s not real

no more so than these pages

scrawled in times new roman twelve point

revealing our lives better than

we, locked inside the story; no

this can’t be real, i’m

standing on the beam- on the path

the wheel, it turns

page after page in twelve point font; reviled with wonton abandonment

consuming humanity to restore the storyline

after crashing in topeka

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