inspired by Jim DeCesare's Drawing #75
all my life i've borne the fear of losing a few fingers at
sudden blades protruding from air. blades gasping
hello to slice me of identity in blood gushing
wounds. now the hammer calls to ask:
what about my weight does it not
matter in your existence? yes
it does as you drop every
day every hour in my
head onto the grain
of my hope so
dusty &
gone.
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