#149: Everything is Unravelling

April 1, 2020—In which my mind and body disintegrate back into the universe and I hold up my hand, only to have it slip through my own fingers.

I’m sick in systems. I don’t mean much.
To myself, I drag in at dusk. Rains on the floor.
Crane my neck to touch my toes.
Ankle on Mars. Knees six feet deep.
Craters don’t move, they breathe dust.

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