the size of the kitchen sink. Now I trudge with every step instead of smoothly slink. Bending from the weight pushing down on me I can’t see straight. I see perpendicularly. It makes my gait
wobbly. So exhausted I can't sleep. Every turn I take the boulder barrels as a jeep, leaving tracks upon my sheets. Run over by black lies and used to bes I weep blood-soaked drops hard as
lollipops that break my teeth. The sun's a nun that has to preach. But this boulder only smolders making me vexatious to reach. The landslide that is I has blocked every street. This mountain has crumbled
at my feet. Today the streetcleaners sweep up the rubble. How did this chip grow into a boulder? Or is that I'm older I sunk in the debris?