Breadcrumb #516


He might as well be 
a poor

None of his reruns play on any station
He knows because this time share
Always has power
And the waves outside the floor-to-ceiling windows
Never cease their chatter
So he plays the TV endlessly
Swipes left on phantom phone
Skip-skip-skipping channels
It’s endless being dead
And the mirror is only empty space
He just wants to see the apple face
that minted his fortune
one last time
on his way out
whenever that is

Please. Come and knock.
Please. Come and knock. 

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