If self is sin and other is life
Then I swallow the dank air of the former daily
All the while knowing the score
Yet still motionless
On the floor

Occasionally the mind flutters
The flickering flame bellows hope
And in doing so
Drys up my energy
Before I ever get out the door

Light is wrapped in grace
It shines seemingly out of reach
While my brain channels Dickinson
Sequence unravelling
Like balls upon a floor

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