Flaws for Thought

I do not mean to skulk
around the corners of your life
I do not mean to sulk
when your existence needs respite
I itch with fingers ready to scratch
to keep you in my life

I snark at sensitive issues
when instead I should tread light
I feel the strong embrace of care
But it sticks under the snipe.

I cut through the candor with knife and fork
I shovel my bullshit all night.
I swallow the caked-on words I can name
Their burn fuels a worry of flight.

This battle-ready runner waits
impatiently for response
ungraciously for convention
unfamiliar with the knowledge

that the dark ahead won’t bite.

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Talk at me while I eat

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