It hurts, you know, peeling
these words out of my skin,
coaxing each vowel into the world,
onto the page, into your hearts,
your minds, even just
your ears. And you’ve no idea,
how excruciating these nights
have become, these past years
when I became increasingly
prolific and everything from before
faded away, all peripheral.
I’d let you inside, give you a tour,
but I can’t pay for the hospital visit
and you might never talk to me again.
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