Thoughts atleast/bad teeth

It’s still there in the dim light rained-out day, a thought i might die. Even the hospital guards count me insane, waste of time. As others run to their trains. Dangerous toils, apathy. –worry that is, a waste. Not me nor these sorts of ideas. Love all they say then question their opines with sharp knives and narrowed eyes and whys. Our taste. Our take. Our place. I give up. Felt better the money spent on pure health, better myself–broke to death this debt tho. It’s still there, missed diagnosis, malfunction of the lot, real insurance, assured. Not… Me? im still there and will bear it like good merits to cherish. Got to smile more. Got to eat more. Got to be more. Sleep? cant afford. Leave it all at the door. Ere. And bad mouth and bad gums and bad teeth. Me, nice thoughts at least. Geeze…no reprieve.

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