anxiety

in the same way that
water drips from the faucet
and breath rises and falls

you are not chains, not fences
not a sunrise
nor sunset
bleeding red to black
black to red

this morning when you woke
you felt the familiar ache in your limbs
and gut

and a series of images and
sounds line the walls of your
foggy memory

what have I done?
and why did I do it?
and how will I mend what I
may have broken?

and not tomorrow
but now

and not with your thoughts
but with your
presence

in the same way that
water drips from the faucet
and breath rises and falls

you find peace

-A

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