(frayed and verloren)

and
where does this sense
of fruitless obligation
self-effacing
apathy
come from anyway?

and
then its accompanying
resentment.
are they twins?

so like
in unfeigned fakery
smother pout cringe slouch nod
sleep?
pout ache scribble sigh squint
bottled ooze
taffy-pulled sap

is it all inside somewhere? or some slick membrane, stitial and stretched?
blaming outward, but surrendering, without even knowing it, to all the imperceptible osmosis.