I spin the bottle.
Living in a vacuum without interruption.
Hidden well beneath is my tunnel vision.
I choose who are my real enemies.
And reasonably question who are my friends.
The bottle keeps spinning...
I arbitrarily carry out instructions.
In a moment of paralyzing anxiety,
My fears summon me to focus on
What task is at hand .
So, I operate in cafés over coffee spoons.
In between obscurities of ample reflection.
And the bottle stops (spinning).
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