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Between the Hours
Dreaming hopeless dreams and hoping atrocious things, asleep all waking hours, awake all sleeping hours, two dates pass in the time it takes to call it a day, and time is dwindling spirally, direly, tirelessly and is entirely unforgiving of wasted opportunity.
Thinking bogus thoughts and knowing focused wants, wantonly surviving, never living, nevermore alive, two dates pass in the time it takes to call it a day, and both dissipate into wasted hours, both dissolve into that which devours, and desire scours for more.
Breathing broken breaths and throwing impotent protests, revolting against the limited infinity of life, two dates still pass in the time it takes to call it a day, and futile fighting finds no avail, all assailing veiling fruitless acts of rage against intangibility.
Freeing impalpable concept and liberating disgraceful insecurity, refusing hidden shame, embracing morbid recesses, two dates become four before they become one, and at last no more, and every hour is a sleeping one, and every day a waking reminder to live.
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A pause after a period is time to take a breath, while a pause denoted by a comma has no such time. Use your commas sparingly for your reader's health, and the life of your style. Unless you're me. In which case, be a hypocrite and hold no regard for your reader's health, nor dare claim to even possess a style.