the present: four of cups


here I lie

licking my wounds

eyes turned inward

seeing one fragment of the infinite

seeking constant reassurance and steadiness

as if the world could stop turning and hold still for me

licking the wounds all down my arms in the hope of some kind of metamorphosis

here I sit, acknowledging the bars that still remain around my heart

eyes turned inwards, all I see is my tremoring pulse

my body tries to tremble out of this fix

my tongue to shape myself licks

my eyes turn inward

tired of all this

time now

I hope

to wake


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