Stretching again my thin embrace of balance
this New World’s treasures are grossly bright
The wealth of poverty is rich about me
and the unsheltered beckons me home
I work in the field of the jobless
and once again the tension mounts
and my body betrays me

In healthy sickness I loose my appetite for life
Fear is empty fossil fuel
but it’s the only thing my body will consume
although my mind derives nourishment from the pain

Screaming in my silent solitude
I play at tarot cards
voyaging with boredom in my loneliness
I have more living in the deck
than I do in my existence

So I fall through the black hole of my memories
revisiting and reliving the gravity of my mistakes
Recut are the scars of my past
open and healed they weep again
yet I am dry

At least my blood would have been a reminder
that I still alive

February 17-18, 1993
Tressa Lee Breen

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