Lost and Self-Loathing

On an island I dug around

For decades.

Now I’m trudging through quicksand

And low sighs.

Contemplating past cries, lies,


Underlying, buried shrines

Of past lives…

Rest somewhere here, it’s starting-

Point hinges

On future trajectories

So i dig.

In the center of my land

I find space.

Crawling with rage and decay,

I assayed

For a natural escape.

Yet, it’s plain

To see, internally I’m…

Just stranded.

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