Perfect plastic limbs.

the place i thought was just a dream. a bad one. the place i thought that’d shut its gates. rusted shut. encrusted in messy overgrowth. the place i thought that wasted away. recessed past the gray. matter-of-fact. place that i can’t touch. don’t want to touch. that hurts to touch. has extended its pricks and pins and needles. to pierce my flesh. again.

here is dark. here is an empty heavy lofty dark. no laws. no ditches. no perfect plastic limbs. no juicy sweet. no salted rims. no cataclysmic jellyfish. to wrap and tangle. strangle. choke. giving you a Heimlich. to upchuck the wicked sticky ball of reality. that tries to kill you. kill you slowly. as it makes its way up.

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