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My skull
cracks
on paper
but words refuse to leak
choosing instead
to imbed themselves
deeper within,
leaving my matter
unresolved
dampening the paper.

I create images
by grinding,
rambling through words
without thought
direction
caring.

I miss the spike,
its force of entry
the flash
of painful
probing creation,
at the bloody child
before me.

But now
the grinder whines,
"Return!"
I lower my head
to spew
idiocy.

Raychel Wagner
1998