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At the Heart of the Nausea.

Glowing, floating
in a shared dream,

groping
each other
like the blind

freely trying to ascertain
each others’
corporeal reality.

Attached at the back,
the hip,
so obscenely
happy
it makes me sick.

They are addicted.
They are each other’s fix…

Why am I
so goddamned cynical?
Is this nausea just jealousy?

Is it that they so effortlessly
bring themselves
to the here and now
and all I see is the dark
end of the cycle?

Denying life
in light of death?

As if it always
goes up in flames,
comes crashing down
anyway…

The high may be a lie
but beyond that transience
there is depth to be found.

It can stay away.

I remember
falling in that hole.
Lost a part
of myself down there,

vowed never
to return.

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