My body is building defenses
against dark things with layers
upon layers of alternate timelines
where sometimes the heart beats
swimmingly and sometimes it beats
sluggishly – or skips altogether –
and the nerve endings feel like
they’ve been filed down to bare nubs
and my head keeps growing
from the inside, heavy with knowing less
but seeing more and there’s a small space
in reserve for dreams that gets pushed
this way and that but I hold firm
to the one thing I won’t lose.
The Word Rummager 
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