Don’t Trust the Funk

The funk drips
and my grip slips
while I hang from the cusp
of this fever dream.
I trip up and plunge down
slamming into the dirt filled dimension.
His breath is quick
the air, it’s thick
and a hazy wave swirls
Choking what reason he had left
and crippled with doubt,
this body eventually claws its way back up
the spongy cavern
and as the surface pulls nearer
the breeze eases in
and I blink back to reality.

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