squeeze it in.

in a hazy stupor, with life too much to handle, i do what im supposed to do. or close to it. or something like that. take it in, give it out, smile and nod. or just nod. whatever. i feel so dulled. i have very little voice. all of the noise seems to be in my head. everyone else seems on a loop. i just cant seem to get it all straight. perhaps if i looked sideways. but im so tired. so dulled. so tense. so pained. do i bathe? sleep? sleep with someone? without? paint a picture? pretend its real? cross that bridge when i come to it? or blow it up now. scared is a damn bad place to be. who wants to be stuck in the coyotes den when you could be smelling the flowers on the other side of the fence. where is the fence? im not actually sure. maybe theyre smelling the flowers too and no ones safe at all. least of all me. dont play with my heart. i cant take it. not anymore. im not strong enough to fight. or i just no longer want to. whatever it is. its not me. i miss me. i miss my moxy. yeah, thats it, bring me my moxy. ill take two. i may just need a bit of help squeezing me all back in.

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