shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Eli Steiger

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Feeling like falling as fell air flies from lungs too fatigued to keep floundering in attempts to fill themselves with expectations. When there is water enough above you waiting the pressure is a wall with weight enough to crush beyond recognition. There is no giving up letting go of any burdens the body is the burden and in building a life in this body there can be no reprieve or relief or reason to receive anything other than this reality wrought by hands shaking and unsure. There are miles in every step and years to be measured but none of that matters because drowning lasts forever and when it's all said and done all that remains is a body sucking in the putrid rotting air cramping as it tries to slog through a life given not as a gift but as a question. Suffering sung by voices whispering of an endless naked horizon stretching into the sea surrounded by silence and as the waves lap softly at the silken sand they do not speak but whimper