clotting into a thick mass
dread drops like cottonwood fluff
throughout the soft afternoon
I cannot breathe this darkness
too many knots of decay
to choke like thorns down my throat
each morning I spit a bit
then find scraps of redemption
as I stumble out the door
a new day’s dark-red dawn blurs
a simple numbness unfolds
inevitable and cold
I gasp and look to the sky
hopeful I will breathe today
(November 30, 2017)
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