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Creative Yammerings


The lake seems angry

She slaps crashes and punches against

rock and land

She paces her cage of limitations

Wants me to step closer

Chance my fate in her bosom

I sit the cusp of her oblivion

Close enough for the cool mist of rage-filled

breaths to scrape ‘cross my cheek

She wants to devour me

Cheaply I fantasize about feeding myself to her

My fear is not only am I not enough

to satiate her hunger

But not enough for her to even notice

I’ll sit here

just out of reach of want

Watch her pace and poke for weak spots

I toss her the table scraps of myself

My fears

My shame

My failures

My mistakes

My regrets

Maybe it won't satisfy her hunger

Maybe she won’t even notice

But I will

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