January 17th Free Write

I can’t move enough-
The words just won’t come.
What did I come here looking for
Where I can’t sing or breathe anymore
Is there any line dividing
Opening my mind and dying?
Or am I chrysalizing
Later to fly on the winds which  bind
My tongue, my heart, my eyes
By motioning through these make- believe times
By no investment and no consequence inside
I arise, satisfied-
A nameless, voiceless
Stranger
Bound to nothing within
But the wandering, aimless insatiable Winds.

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