I remember why I left this place.
It smells like frustration.
So oppressive that breathing hardly seems worth it.
I remember why I left this place, and I can’t believe I came back here.

A stew of anxiety, worry, pain and heightened alarm with big chunks of fear.
So much responsibility here that one mis-step will cause the world to stop turning on its axis.
If only you’d zigged instead of zagged.
If only you’d been better balanced.
If only you’d been better.

My mouth holds the aftertaste of this wretched place.
That won't leave until I am around the corner from this visit.
Its hooks left tender little marks.
I will keep praying that I can turn back around if I find myself on the path here again.
I wish God would take some places off the map.