bone-shredding day of fear.
I walk to the gardens in MoMa.
I lie on a wall and try to count the branches of a tree
which was here long before me.
fretting myself into a frenzy.
clothed in loathing.
I see the scene inside my skull
shroud heavy
the prompter’s lost her way.
I have not understood a single thing today.
words pass through me.
grey noise.
I clasp my hair and set my teeth against regret.
nothing clean for me.
the bones of me cold to the core.
ache in the chest
take a breath
a big one
fill your belly
hear the sea sound of the sucked in air.
spine twisting misery
furious with deformity
but mine is one no one can see.
my mind hollowed out
an empty, dripping cavern.

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