moving at
half speed today
the coffee did
little to
dispel the shibari
keeping my brain
knotted in
recursive mutterings
the same empty lot
in a different city
seeking answers
in the gray fugue
smothering the day

that’s a lie

seeking the answers
that provide hope when
the truth is as
hopeless as an artist
starving as the
roaches feast on
discarded scraps
when the most obvious
decision is another
salted field of
sallow dreamwhispers


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