melting to the pot

i was not phased by the fall of night
only puzzled why the day lasted longer than my wits

built to enjoy the muck
there is no shame for the plow

how does a climb
exist with no chance for a fall?

boiled beans
where the seeds of information swelter

no divides
that are safe from every harm

how do we buy
and sell souls already bankrupt?

pressure can squeeze
but slippery is the mind on grace

knowing too much
holds a fire to every kettle

the world churns
sweat rising to the surface

do we scream
or do we find a way to harbor selfishness?

do i begin again
or is there no hope for wonder

smiled upon by retreat?



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