This Is Not Art

Poetry to Split the Social Order

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Vertigo

vertigo plagues every step
every time bone meets concrete my stomach churns
the void that confronts me
that monster with breath like a funeral home
embalming fluid all over the floor
and bits of flesh
blowing like confetti
I am terrified
constantly
that tomorrow will come
and I'll still be here

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