Disconnecting from my soul, inside a bathroom stall:
the nine by eleven spins, out of control, somewhere
the real me thinks about a way to show up in the world.
Lower, and lower, and lower, and lower I go, until
there is no where left to go. Waves of anxiety
cognizance reminds me of what life used to be.
Comatosed in a passionless, excitementless desert
full of defunct tiresome clans, sluggishly wading
through a breathless uninteresting existence.
Deep breath in, I force myself out of the bathroom stall,
dishevelled, uninspired, dead woman walking,
exhale, maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe.
– L.J. Lenehan –
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