oh my accelerating
weakness of flesh
and mind -- the undeniable
decaying of everything i think of
as mine, save for spirit,
which soldiers on some days
better than others. gone
is the short-term memory;
in its place the long-term
grows ever more fine: yes!
(i remember that one time.)
woe is my mantra, the sound
of the space between
my ragged breaths. i ache
and remember everything
trivial, each moment stripped
of context, and i no longer
consider what might come next.
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