emo eno

this is not the time for facebook or gramming,
tweeting or chatting.

this is a time when your safest place is in the furthest strip of yard,
in the thinnest strip of nylon,
cocooned near the back fence
just you and two soft ears
taking in your bitter fears.

and after the unburdening,
your thanks and apologies are deflected with a blank stare.
she's unbothered and you're glad
because you may need those ears tomorrow.

according to Guinness, this is the lowest a person has ever hung in a hammock
 

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