bloodshot eyes,
putting on deodorant in the basement of the physics building,
drinking a lukewarm coffee,
while neglecting my dying electronics.
chipped red nail polish,
dancing to Beck across the hall from powerful lasers,
thinking in too many languages,
while taking Mumbai-made anti-narcoleptic magic.
shivering fingers,
laying on couches caked with chalk,
smelling plants to see if they're real,
while wondering if I might just be dreaming,
or if that matters at all?
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