Clothes I’ve worn in and out hard days, soiled.
My face, caked dirt, imperfections.
Feeblest efforts, tired before starting, lacking the sense to quit running wheels of faulty programming, back and forth, arrogance mounting, a laundry basket of stupidity.
/
God, am I in a cage of my own doing?
Whispering hymns with dry empty lips?
God, am I repeating foolishness until my batteries expire then I’ll melt in the driest dryer until I catch on fire without tears broken wires hang every word I say from my broken jaw?
No words.
/
My dirty clothes.
My flaws exposed.
Best garments filled with holes.
Blankets betray me to cold.
And I feel, like the biggest impostor in the world.
I feel, like I’m lying to you and myself.
Emotion Dough 