This liquid pain comes on
and makes a marsh of my brain.
So now I have to plunge face first
into the slop every time I want to think.

Too many drinks later, and the strictures
finally loosen just enough for me
to raise my arms,
like I was gonna reach for something.

But this is yesterday and forever intact.
Act 2 closes with a bandaged fist
and a garbage fire. Act 3 commences
with the same garbage fire, only now,

there are people in it,
and I can’t save them.
It’s enough to make a guy break character,
but I have to keep up appearances

for the after party,
and the world’s fragmented gaze.

-r. miller

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