What do I know of the journey
dreary as I meander
on a damp and slithering trail?
By the lamp that watches the slight
variations of air as I exhale,
you might think that the breath
was something to flop past
and trounce before it gets control.
That is not necessarily the case
and we can, instead, watch summer bugs
with hard shells and wings
know the way,
the slime and abandoned places to avoid
just long enough to retreat
and make a new life in the simplicity
and solitude
outside of skin.
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