post-pivot depression

the tongue pressed
down suppressing
another worthwhile
smile as I embalm
my visage in granite
resolve failing the
test of distance
wrapping my arms
all the way around
an indifferent goddess
bless my seventh
sense that beckons
me onward even
if i choose to stay
these forceful fates
instrument my place
and my usual
mistakes envelop
me in the usual
lovely amenities