Wormy
I feel like brushing up against old shoelaces.
I have a boat over on the next island.
And that island holds strung up slime.
I have enough depression for a land slide.
And that is more slippery than the doorknob to my own place.
I hovered.
Burned up old anxieties like lukewarm messages.
I have enough sand in my shoes for a lifetime.
Feels wormy.
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