familiar smells have faded. I think of favors left undone. familiar sounds have drifted away. conversations silenced. forward progress halted to a dead stop, each foot refusing to pass the other. mechanical motions strain under pressure, breaking down, deteriorating, running hot, erratic, lurching, painful. come up for air just long enough to see the next wave crashing down from above. pressure built up and released. the story unfolds again and again, each round shorter, each time colder. behind my eyes it’s worse every time, magnified suffering. this retching, wretched rage. sympathetic words mumble across the gap between empathy and experience. empty gestures and overflowing intentions seek to salve a burn as flames remain. we’re all strangers here on this side of the grave.
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