Poetry

The drain

strangers to ourselves
we reach for the rim
sacrificing everything
worst of all ourselves

out of breath
out of spirit
out of life
we slip back in

this isn’t what you think
you can’t climb your way out

egos made of wax
we melt like Icarus
gravity pulling us home
like drops of water
through a drain in the floor

don’t be scared
what’s up is down
underneath the surface
all you’ll feel is calm

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I send an email several times a year with a handful of the most interesting things I’ve written or uncovered at home, abroad, and on the web.

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