Its not
my place to say
Gravity.
Curve of ankle bone under skin. Crease.
It is
strange outside, and it never stops. Human traffic.
It is
about this. Brutal rot.
Danger
is abstract. Stay behind the yellow line.
Recorded
voices don’t stop speaking. I don’t think,
Or don’t
catch myself thinking, it’s a game.
My
memory doesn’t work properly. Things go missing.
The
world rears up, it’s outside my window. It’s alarming.
Boating
lake. The leaves under water. Rudimentary
Sort of
banging.
Tip
table over. Traipse home. The mode of conveyance is
Wordy.
Who put it there? A load of scaffolding named
English.
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