we now return you to your scheduled break down

the walls are
leaning in
staring at me
with a hostility
usually reserved
for self deflection

the ceiling is
bowing down
pressing on me
with a weight
usually reserved
for self reflection

i am trapped
in a loop
of migrating migraines
a thousand nettles
a thorn of crowns
around a frowing fool
in a state of
constant aggravation.


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