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  • Todd Wooten

Futile Hopes

Updated: Sep 3, 2023

I skip a stone on the clouds

it lands with a dehydrated sizzle

the pathway through the park

makes a sauna of my sweat

and reminds me to be thirsty

I do not want a drink

or an IV, feel free to prick


I pant like a dog, humid air resists

my shallow inhales like its

wrapped in a film, not quite gas

I do not want to breath

why care if my lungs burn while

shoulders blister and soles melt?

eyelid back memories smoulder


roots sprout, plunge molten deep

claw marks carve all I clutch

joints strain, stretch, and separate

open mouths suck with greed

sand covered tongues washed in the pond

I breath, I drink, I burn

I stumble home defeated

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