Inside the mind of the sag around the sack and hard moments.

It’s so lonely here. It’s stifling in fact. Most of the day and night kept in a cloth prison away from eyes, touch, or any recognition.

Mostly, I’m just a sprinkler. I dribble a lot.

Sometimes I’m treated like a pet. Other times I meet a friend. If I’m lucky I get to hide in a dark comfortable place but the experience is so fast and never lasts too long.

My cousin gets so much more. She has tons more nerve and her feelings, like a superpower, are amplified way beyond mine. And, she gets her own cove but not me I’m just sticking out like a tiny, weird out-of-place arm.

Sometimes I feel misunderstood. Like it’s my fault for hanging out but it’s that lump up top who’s making me out to be a real prick.

Yeah, that’s right I get bashful sometimes and cold water makes me shrink. The asshole who doesn’t trim around me and wash up leaves me to stink.

No wonder I’m the butt of so many jokes.

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.

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