I get caught up in it
The net
The struggle
The shackles that bind
The enormity
It fills up my insides
like silver bullets
waiting to ring
I often find
it's getting harder
to breathe
to breathe
It drowns me
with little subtlety
or tracks to trace
or tracks to trace
Just a lingering layer
as thick
as thick
as the thickest
fruit rind
Maybe I'll plant
the seeds
and wait to see
what grows there
fruit rind
Maybe I'll plant
the seeds
and wait to see
what grows there
-August 2017
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