3 a.m., out of bed to the sound of a blaring clock.  Coffee and breakfast prepared the night before, oatmeal sludge... A hypnotic drive in blue tinted light.  Pitch black, walking with deep breathes that sear the core of my lungs. There is always the question, “what is wrong with me?”

                   - Then the sun rises.

Landon Wiedenman.
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 Revised: 12/29/2009