Chicken
There is this truth
when suddenly everything
becomes a matter of trust.
You have to trust this.
You have to trust that this truth
is as emhemeral and calming as your
certainty. You rise in the middle
of the night to gobble just a small
piece of your very own marrow to prove
that you are still here.
It doesn't taste anything like chicken.
Suddenly, you don't trust anything.
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