Tangled, mutely snagged
Running in tight figure eights
Worsening the mess
Wading through deep shit
Bargeloads of roiling, hot filth
Looking for a rope
There's no easy way
To take the sting out of it
To pretend it's fine
Instead, let's just breath
Through our mouths, not our noses
Heads over water
The alternative
Is not attractive. So we
Will swim. We won't sink.
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