I have this hole in my head that only digs when I know I’ve done something wrong, something vulgar, something impure. I have this pain at the end of my toes that curls into my heels when I think about my oversight.
It hinders me from walking, setting my foot down, advancing to another state. It grips at the end of my legs and begins to burrow into the floor, cementing me in place. I topple; the hole in my head flicks me off balance so that only my hands can brace, embrace, my devastation.
My feet are encased into this place I’ve put myself and my head is disintegrating at a pace faster than that of my heart.
