There's always some kind of pathetic pressure.
Like the current in this sickly river
You walk past everyday, it pushes steady and
Hard and destroys your senses one by one.
It's a shock from a cascading current of fear
Or a curiosity that pulls you like you used to make
Your mother do in such painfully public places.
But I have to press the button and put the finger
Down my throat and there are things that
I could do that are much worse I suppose.
In my head they're not even words but to her
They are two ton bricks bearing her down
And shattering bones, so I'll build a dam and
Staple it shut, powering down and building her up.
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