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manifest press

it’s not coming easily.

the semester is over and the blankness is surprising. i come here in the hopes that something will happen, but it doesn’t.

i’ve spent my time trying to encounter something bizarre. everything is erasing my mind. the pervasive blankness seems to be emanating from my chest, from my forehead. i open my mouth to speak. i open the book.

i open.
i open.
i open.
i open.

i miss the mark. i miss the moment. i open, but before i can grasp at it it slides away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“what are you thinking about?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

there is silence ringing.

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