Like God (would)

I recently went through one of those very-ugly-for-reasons-long-reduced things, that pressure-cooked contempt and its equal release were to such points that “ugly” wouldn’t’ begin to describe them – from any perspective. But ugly isn’t really surprising when the suppressions become the sickness – right? Right. So better now. Or will be. Point is, in that there, then, there was a person I needed– and knew I could call. And so that night, when I got into bed, I opened my notepad and wrote this for her:


© Dylan Balkind

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