there is an old, new
paralysis – a hitchhiker
on the most bearable
days, a parasite on
the worst – that pins
down a hand, an
arm, a leg, a morsel
of every hour, crushing
the cells and membranes
of day. we feel
sick about it all
the time, emerge
from the stupor
spasmodically to ask
one another for best and
worst case scenarios,
readjust our negativity
bias for a version
of survival
.
20170311:1013
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