A Thousand Distracting Cuts
My thoughts fil-
ter
through
my brain by see-
ping
past
a thousand
distracting cuts
that I ac-
quir-
ed from
a- void- ing
a gashing wound,
a severed
limb,
a gushing injury—
Now…
I'm bloodletting,
draining a
bright, dazzling
digital flow
of
information,
drowning out
in the shallow
depths that surround me,
the sheer breadth of it
pooling.
Like gills flapping,
like fins flailing
in green, algae crusting
shorelines and tides,
the grazes
open and close
as the stream pulls against
them.
A thousand distracting cuts
pick at my mind, riving
what I
once
believed,
thrushing it
slowly
down
the twirls of abject
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poem by Tim Stensloff
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