In the quiet, infinitely limited, dome of my skull
the quiet from the outside stifles thoughts.
The oppresive openness of the lakeside
robs me of identity
The rays of the sun bleaching out hard earned
scars from the day before.
I stand fuming in the cool
waiting for birdshit.
Photo copyright JohnDeakinphotography
Oh my goodness! This is funny! And tragic. Great write.
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