Friday, October 23, 2015

admit it (a decomposed journal entry)

i feel sick
i feel sick to my stomach
when i see the email in my inbox
hitting me going straight through me
like a punch in the gut i crumple around its
fisted fingers like a white sheet
no resistance

how can i continue to exist knowing the future

how can i go to that meeting
how can i not go to that meeting

i don't want to leave you in the hands
of all the other people who may want to go there
because maybe if i wanted to maybe if i had an inkling
i can stop it it i can
stop this moving
train
i can stop it
i can stop it
step in front of it with my arms spread wide open and
that will be enough

how will i ever know?





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