I spend my days with pen in hand
Or hunched over keyboards
Or smaller screens
Scrawling and typing and pecking with a single finger
As if rummaging around in a nostril for a
Sickly green soft crystalline prison
Trying to dig out the speck of grit caught in the middle of my head
So I can flick it away
Or
Too often
Swallow it back down again because
Nobody needs to see it
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