Forgotten Ground Regained

Fore(dis)closure

Forcing inspiration is futile,
for I am too emotionless and too exhausted to produce perfectly projected hit pieces
and too raw to read back the writing and remember all that I've gone through and embedded in between each and every letter.
My surfaces are scratched; windows broken; cabinets falling off their hinges. The tile in the bathroom is lifting from the grout And there are pockmarks in the plaster. --Years of picture-frame-pretension have dimpled me-.- Only gaze at my lawn, brown, brittle, breaking, and bitter.
On a perfect white-picketed mast, I've put a sign in the front yard before you can even come inside to see for yourself.
Copyright © Margaret Stears, 2023
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