I am institutionalized.

I hang by my ears from blood vessel clouds.
One hundred percent sway and bend.
The spaces around me vacuum my skin to persuade
the motion of the stars control.
Hairline fractures compose my mass,
and the base of my neck is elevated as far as the
curvatures I own, mid knee.
still, not accessible.

When current stops…

I find myself at the base of progress.
at concrete square grated stairways—
front looking at the evergreen door.
Beyond nothing stays attached, movement
retracts and complies itself near street guttars.
One anxious foot inside, body programmed to
intake, not produce. As I enter this church to pray,
Rising; inevitable.


Categories: Poetry

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