I dragged myself up. Careful buttons were put on too tight on gothic petticoats not meant to be taken off.
Balance off somewhat. Keeping time nor touch has continued beyond the years. Personnel offices hide behind shields to fool applicants. First test. Stupidity.
Hairs surface everywhere around me. Until morning. Pieces collapse under my feet. Engulfed in careful analysis to feel out a basic grasp. Different from the day before. Nothing is essential. But a favor done to me. Sells over the chess game. Two pieces missing from a move never found coax me into being folded into a mass of flesh. Sleepy eyes make things look worse; hanging low, neck bends over body and breathing nearly stops. The eyes discontinue their jobs at hand, merely missing what is there, passing in front of the scenes I hate are disassociated patters into drifts, piles of horrible bangers and comforts.
Bailing over is a substance unbearable to others. Shattered to me. It is gratitude not fulfilled. Or perplexed looks directed out at the sea. Drifting paths. Silent touches. Onward paths.
RIVER BED 13
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