Posts Tagged Shrimp

The Bubbles Are Mine

It’s not chaos.
Pure, boiling shrimp,
right at the lid of my head.
The hippo kicks wildly at my innards.

I need help.
Lock me up and let me cry,
my plea, but I’m stuck,
trying to be perfect
rather than admit failure.

And allowing the boiling shrimp
to eat at the roots of my soul,
and I drift through the chaos,
wearing old pants,
feeling dead,
but not good enough
to be dead.

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