Where is the source?

Georgia Park/Private Bad Thoughts

I am a poet! I am. I am. I am a poet, I reaffirmed, ashamed.

There is a spider hanging from a thread

just above my shoulder

and I can’t find the source of it

there’s no web on the ceiling or in the corners

and all i can think is that

I wish we could trade places

because with the webs I’m spinning

I’d be dead within a couple of hours

from hunger. I can’t catch anything

The consequences of my inadequacy

would be more immediate without social welfare

I would curl my legs into my chest

and spin a rope around it

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Author: Sudden Denouement

A Global Literary Collective

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