Onions
There’s weariness.
If someone handed me a shoebox I would consider shoving myself into it.
Because it’s tempting.
Invisible anger.
Craters.
Decisions.
Worse.
Maybe brains have glue in them.
So I can’t shove ideas in the creases.
My brain is frozen all the time.
I’m half an onion ring.
Always the worse half.
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