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Summer of Poetry: Twitch


The house is never truly
still.
There is an almost endless punctuation of
shrill beeps
of mechanisms I've long
resented,
shoving aside peace and mind with their
demands for attention. A
disrespect for my
time that mirrors
their insensitivity
toward the restlessness
and frustration
their interruptions leave in their wake.
I just need time enough to
finish
one incomplete thought...
Just
one
train of thought
that isn't hijacked by a

notification.
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