Sweat clouds my brow,
In the heated churner,
Hellish and intense.
Round and round,
It rolls relentlessly.
While rocky grinding sounds,
Mirror,
The upheaval in my belly.
No balance or footing,
And continual disorientation,
In the rollicking cylinder.
I make my way,
To one of the two exits,
But have neither the drive nor stamina,
To make it there.
And so I tumble over,
Through the dizzy evening.
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