I wake past my alarm and lose the time to fold and fixate on the things I shouldn't. in the shower I try to remember when last I felt good at something. in the mirror my teeth are still crooked. you still have all your limbs. knowing what I know I wash my face and carry on.
time pours through other people's thoughts and dialogue. I ride between desks listening to conversations I pay to be prescribed. there's talk of getting better, growing out and into health. looking back at boulders to give them names. I keep an ear out for my voice; ruled by ego even in disorder.
a crow picks at worms from gaps in the lawn. the wattle bird drains life from the flowers. I join the waiting room to renew my diagnosis. they check I'm sick enough before they give me what I need. they do. I pay by card and don't want a receipt.
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