last morning in waco

my brain is
too busy
my soul is
too worn
my heart has
been abandoned
and my body is
turned to ash

the hotel life
is not for me
but any other
seems just as
far out of reach
another ceiling
swollen with
muttered prayers
new pillows to
fluff with
adorations that
remain unreturned

spinning out
in another bad cycle
far from anything
remotely close
to dream come true


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