the price for being the fool

gravity pulses
behind occular
distortions
everything is
just out of
my ability to
find any focus
little burns
on my fingers
from the simmering
sauce needing
to be stirred
and i feel nyself
dissolve with
the finely diced
cloves of garlic
floating on
the robust scents
through am
apartment that
has grown just
a bit too
fuzzy around the
edges of sight
flattened like
a penny on
the railroad tracks
by these ceaseless
waves of rancid
filth slapping
against my brain

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