a life’s lost
i annealed my soul in routine
took the challenges and burnt them
across the bridge of fright
an unknown poet even to himself
floating just under the top of a bog
dark lengths rippling into no being
disengaging all forward gears
even neutral was unengaging
for in the col between no wind’s hills
direction was suspended in the lee
of how to be good or better at doing
when i knew not what i was meant to do
reticent to tread any upward steps
to exchange distance for solidity
the rash chafing leading to a falling
for the wrap of soil’s damp blanket
not one thing achieved anything
the depths of failing the height of stupidity
the lost cause of lost steps
deranged by anxiety’s frisson
not one remembered thing was of value
then or now the question half-formed
what the hell
well
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