Stiff

Walking walking,

looking for the bus,

cannot find one,

which way which way,

one way is the only way there,

it’s cold on my hands,

but I let them be cold,

feel the sensation of cold,

cold hands is a normal thing,

slow hands,

like slugs,

creeping and delayed,

I write and its hard,

my hands not very responsive,

asleep in stasis,

but I just want to write.

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