Storm

The mornings are the worst.

Tidal waves of anxiety and sorrow sweep over and swallow me whole

and I am trapped in this magnified belly, an encasement of soft rotting flesh being tossed from side to side in this tumultuous tempest.

My being is diluted and mixed with these unsavoury traitors

weighing my mind and rendering it obsolete.

Stranded.  I am alone.  With me.

Storm

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