These Days…

Dark tunnels

pass

near

rather than

far

present

in

living

when

death

whereabouts

Inside

the head

purely

running around like a two-year-old

on a playground

screaming

loud

under a bleacher

Ahhhh!

Student to a teacher

A+,

plus, plus,

degrees

to the

cleverest

to shoot

for a forecast

life

from the hood

wishing

that they’re

little engine

that

could…

but,

never

overseas

never

overcoming

the stuck

in the yuck

like gum

overwhelmed

to be

scrape off

once

found

beyond dark

shadows

that follows

under pressure

walking.

Burdens

trapped

under

alligator skin

clamping

into

ways to get

into

a death roll

twirling

around

rough tidal waves

crashing

deep in

depths

to

sorrow

until

nothing

left

except

the burdensome

bullet

in my pistol.

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