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And So the Dark Matter of My Soul

A poem of surrender

Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash

And so the dark matter of my soul forms a tear, a slit
so slippery it glides a path for hidden fears to
sidle down to self-dismissal. From narrowed
marrows of neglected time, it rips and gapes
and gasps, widens lurking wise-ass-ness to force
a burgeoning crevasse, an opening so rank
and hungry, it on itself begins to feast and pulse and
hope for bitter ends dissolving into…



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