I can not culvert into the world
Stuck inside a flood about to overflow
Into a space unknown
A king of backwash I’ll overflow
It doesn’t matter now
The rush pushes me down
Toward the dark I see so often
Across my knees I bend
At my needs of panic
And fear when I can not transform
Into a human being
Of attraction or affection
Or anything un-empty
I can not pull myself out
the backwash deformity

State of borderline flatline
Blue skyline dry grass against the hillside
Bland cornflakes in nonfat milk in a cereal-bowl
Static gone clear on the television tube
Doctor forget to call on the cellular telephone
Pills go empty from the pill bottles
Circular movement array teeter-totter
Convulsants erratic dancing unwanted
That is the end, sorry no story intendedCulvert_with_a_drop



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