Addiction to the miserable possibilities
Addictions get greasy because of that quick flip down the steps,
images flash, pill boxes pop and we each have one, some.
We pass around our imperfect selves on silver platters
and everyone takes a slice. I keep seeing a crash.
As the horrible unravels like a little girl's sock monkey
I see there is nothing wrong, but the rock in my gut
grows moss, collects spiders and dark whatnot.
Everything is good, so good-- I am afraid.
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