My mind settles on what it knows.
I hear voices.
They force me to calibrate how often I do not listen.

Separating the personal from perception
a series of justified decisions
folded into fixed patterns
flashbacks of dissociations

Similar to our attempts to escape
only to have resulted in capture
like that summer when the light never disappeared.

Tension born from lust disguised as domesticity
has become an intimate style of familiarity.
Finding peace through erasure is luxurious.

All of this, including what is still yet to come
leaves behind delicate traces, reminders of permanence
like faint marks on paper maps and open hips showing scale and distance.

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