once or twice, here and there

by vlock1

what it is
is
weight:
everything you do or
think
every part of you
has
an anchor
lashed to it

there’s no time to
consider what
might work best
or where you
might be most
useful

or whether or not it’s
time finally to
start thinking
about doing your own
thing
now that you’ve
tried everything else

there’s just weight
hanging on you
keeping your moves
constricted
to the next day
the next week
small steps that
don’t add up
to
anything of note
who cares about
your ideas? they’re vapor
tissue
ash piled high and
stinking
in
the rain

what matters is
your bus pass
the rent
the basic accoutrements of
basic life:
still
more
weight

you’re lying there
eyes open
in the dark
another day of
mild terror behind
you
finally

lying there
trying to
breathe

like Giles Corey
under the board

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