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Poetry & Prose | April 11, 2016

I want to dig myself into the earth of writing and never come out,
construct a cave of words, sturdy enough to hold the ceiling
and hide away.
I want to delve into the darkness that lies below each of us
and forget all the noise.
I want to find the earth’s beating heart
and let it cradle me,
a rhythm I can rock to and with it,
fall asleep.
Lungs full of dust, I won’t come up for air.
I’ll eat the dirt
and scrape away at the hard soil.
Grit under my nails, gathered in the cracks of my hands.
I want to dig so deep I suffocate under all these pages.