sometimes i find myself

stretched

halfway in a field of mist

groping for hands

that never promised to be there

with hands

that never knew they were being

stretched;

~

until:

~

the tension locks the nerves

and the restless tip tapping of

the feet

run to conclusions that lie on

the y = x of

possible and probable.

~

the die rolls again:

~

the same faces return with

rearranged pictures

but i never seem to understand

that the house always wins.

and

I

always

lose,

~

my mind

my dignity

my me.

~~~~

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