February 2, 2017
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A wave comes
Angry and hot;
The loop of
Hot gunpowder smoke
Drifting from white billowed airbags,
Crushed red metal
With its hands in my hair
Pulling from all directions--
Dissecting sanity from the pores in my scalp
Like salt grains
Evaporating from tears
Too crazed to realize had come.

I slowly touch
One in front of me,
Resting lazily on
Cream skin,
That I can’t conform to

Blankly gazing at
Eggshell cracks
On the clouded windshield
And reach out to
The drooping, useless things
Replacing the panels
Below a rigid dashboard

Reach out
Into broken air
And bent down
Crunched, cracked, crippled

Another thing
Pushed through to smack attention
Back into my sobbing mouth
Said to take the blame; watch the pain
Fall, like confidence;
Push it back under again.

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