Types of Combat

we are conquered by episodes of relative fiction.
a separated slice,
dementia in a fortnight
a steam rises up and out of my hands,
and the heat is balanced within and without.
Crouching with two types of desire;
I am not a wrestler;
or a ship on the sea
I cannot carry all things imaginable,
nor play like old film that is still laughable.
Tournaments, inside my skull:
the coliseum.

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Published by

errorattic

Writer, aspiring farmer and homesteader in North Georgia, making ends meet and trying to become more enlightened.

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