why can't you whisper it to me
has it got to be this shout from
one day to the next every sinew
pulled up hard each movement
effort to caress what
ails the
buttress
on a falling wall with sticks
is how I see my mind these days
one more pill in the phalanx
that wheels
across the week this skirmish
or another
there is no battle just a little less
nothing can be
won
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