Frazzled fire

licks me frenetically.

My mind is the Monday after a holiday weekend

that meandered into a new month,

and the paperwork in me chafes and squeaks.

Behind my eyes I am filing.

I have begun 178 projects.

177 are exactly what I have been needing, what I have been waiting for.

1 is even better.

My eyes,

my hands,

my judgment ache,

and all I can hear is agitated paper.

Scrape scrape scrape.



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