Some Finish Line

The trap of trepidation has
bear teeth of your own baring
you’ll never get back to square one
unless you bite your foot off.

When you have lost half your weight
the same slimming down trots out
its cousins and you lose half
your memory and longevity.

When you started to talk to yourself
not a dram of drama in it
the classroom that laughed at you
planted in your spine a talon.

The organ of skin we call
rationality has three layers
one cuts off what others say
to sooth your autonomy’s fears,

One turns anything you experience
into a narrative about yourself, and
the third layer the thickest translates
imagination into convention.

The secret is abandonment
but only of the gluttenous
excess of excitement about
getting to some finish line.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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