emotional trash eating sling shot days park on my doorstep like mud

pokadot fly spots flack swatting damned s**t

all over me

underneath the wing pits, the sweat glistens

...door returns with a spat, as i leave the bathroom

 

the face of all things itchy and wise

i know things when i am

eating my own bad moods

 

like now, corn flakes soggy,

heart turned around in my chest....

 

 

 

 

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[Ed Hart]

that last line is the depth of burden