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Continuously Interrupted
It was one of those days
Continuously interrupted
By segments, pieces, lines,
Replays and reruns of
Last night’s dream,
You know the type
That you try to analyze
Only to end up caught up
In it all over again,
Not knowing the day
Or the time,
People wondering
What’s wrong with you
As you shiver and tingle
From the touch to your elbow
That no one around can see.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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