Entry 71115- The Well-Deep Thought Mine

My twisted belly knows
it squeezes, rocks
My beating heart knows

meaty life-giver

My chattering teeth

Chipped fingernails know

clipped short, still claws

My restless feet know

“no dancing” say angry heels

My red streaked eyes know

Burning tears come and go

They know what I should’ve done.

They are punishing me for not following their lead,

with a constant pain best called unrest.

They moan in their respective ways,
making themselves known

as truth-tellers, seers, part of the decision-making entity

I am.

How to proceed?

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