Atlas

I’m wandering,

wondering

why

my spine pinches me

vertically

piercing parts of my skull

to deaden half-

thoughts

my words

hacked short

quick

sharpened

on teeth they

are glowing

white hot

with

frustration

like venom

injected to clench

soft tissues

to tease

and wear down

to scratch

against bone

tearing internally

like

delicate harp strings

too accustomed to

tension

masquerading

mad noises

as music

the notes don’t

digest

trying too hard

to gather courage too

deep

it gets lost

like

dead

weight

refusing to walk.

I cannot walk away.

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