Held in the feeling
of always walking down hill,
even when climbing stairs.
Sensing animals
hurtling by, barely in
in the edge of sight;
unfamiliar creatures —
sentient, wary, and
inadvertently deadly, I hear;
things almost seen
are surging together
to kill me, maybe, and
I can’t seem to stop that;
I can’t help that
gravity and the weakened ghost
of the strength in my legs
is compelling me
to approach them.
Dark Matter 
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