A Blockage

Busy week. Singular events. Chafed pride. Outsourced ego. Wrote my resume. Wrote my deathwish. Wrote a poem. Take it or leave it. Spaced out. Can’t stop. Can’t look back. Take out. Eat up. Fill up. Drive the streets. Make the hills. Seventy-five. Eighty-five. i95. Remember? I do. Forget it? I can’t. Sometimes there’s a blockage. Here’s one for the books.

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