Prosthetic Realism (3)
Dear hypochondria,
it is cold in the plunge and deep.
The difference between being pulled
and pulling is a knot in my stomach
and I worry every all the time
go blurry into sleep.
I need a fall to bed down in
if only for an altogether other
kind of lonely.
Gravity
is a friend I call anemone.
Flower without petals, room with no light.
I'll take a break for the sake of brevity.
Before begins once this is over.
Having never known this
would be somehow better,
ever after on a platter.
There is much later at the end of waiting.
Tomorrow I will buy a new pair of pants.
