With Malice

Tell me there’s more.
Not tech, not junk, not debt, political traps, and forgettable friends.
Tell me I got this place all wrong.
I feel dead on my feet, this path, my restless sleep and vision quest that’s more venture than treasured end.
I must’ve fallen off again.
The deep, malice as relief.
I’m a nobody in this world.

Staring listlessly at my rapidly cooling coffee, I glance out the window pane, realize I need to reframe, and silently trail off in my cocoon.

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