sitting in my cells my bones
eating red all the way down
perhaps politics perhaps weather perhaps what I ate before bed
could be as simple as that
yet it seems sourceless pitched forward from my mind
not a tightening so much as a burning
coming from nowhere I seek out its origins
my only personal discovery three days away
anticipation anxiety
72 hours until
a whole lot of living to do in these minutes
nothing solid standing in the way
nothing real anyway even this red
painted down the center of my body out across my limbs
speaks no truth to what is really the tabbed folder to be opened
present
I am reminded again
mind has a funny way of taking on the world