Frustration

I feel it roiling underneath the surface,

a tape-worm twisting in my gut,

blood-soaked parasite gorging on my good nature,

each twist, each bite, each

pulsation

of its spavined body

drowning me.

 

And the slick sweat that dampens my chest

and the sick fear that rises like vomit in my throat

and the sure knowledge that I am worth this, and nothing else

pulls me back inwards,

back inside

my self

again.

 

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