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Empty the Pot

It would be fine indeed, if we could wash out the mind each morning. Thoughts get stale, the mind like an air deprived swamp, begins to stink, and the only way to go out into the world anew is in the same way our souls came into it. It is wise to swill and pour, flush and evacuate, drain and empty, tip and spill, ejecting all that collected piss we’ve been carrying around, for so many yesterday - that overfull pot we call our feelings.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 12/4/2023 8:46:00 AM
You are wonderful Eric - this is delightful. I must fave it immediately and share it. I've literally just felt sad about not placing in a contest, perfect poem to read to straighten me back out from that kind of nonsense :)
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Eric Ashford
Date: 12/4/2023 9:08:00 AM
You are most welcome Dilly, out with the old emotional bruises, in with the new, or maybe we will care about them less. E

Book: Shattered Sighs