Ship of Fools

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There are things I hear myself saying and I think, You are ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack. The body revolts when you make your face do what it doesn’t want to do; fists clench, half-moon nails embed in palms, lips twitch for fear of breaking dams. Sometimes it takes all your strength to be strong because another person needs it, because you can’t perpetuate this cycle any more– my god, the wheel was square all along and we’ve been pushing…

Solitude is the time to collapse, spill words on page like the bled hearts of birds so these scribbled thoughts can take flight. There are no dams here. Just damns and dammits. I’m a fool and Mother Goose made me this way. This is a all a jest.

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