somewhere in the middle

Updated: Aug 7

at the lagoon,

there is a granite floating fortress

passing this chaotic apathy

hugging me

the way my ribcage should

feel air climbing each of its staircase steps

because at this point, my lungs are asleep

on the idea that my heart knows what the fuck is going on

the road isn’t a straight line or even the zigzag i drew knowing

how this will soon turn out

in the end, will i still look back and point out why

things are so different now,

but not even see how

my brain is a separate being from me

and that she

can be somewhere

in the middle.





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