The High Road Has Too Many Exits (Sometimes Before It Gets Better, It Doesn’t)

Way on to weigh on, I’ve
lost and been loved. My God,
have I lost and loved. Another
dream made night, no
body, no meaning, no feeling
beyond me.

I dream friendly faces, glowing,
apartments and baby showers.
Nightmares. Shapes and ghost
haunting so I hunt shadows,
searching, boxing, a return to self.

You’re Welcome.

I command this stasis
I demand myself.

I cry. Dried tears & mom’s nail polish
thick on the counter. Red, like
blood. Death. Complaints on
color, only because I know she

(cares)

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