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Blue and Black (Wake Up, Wake Up).

Before the door
she stands, wide-eyed,
hypnotized, watching
the strange blue
glow from beneath
the door grow

more brilliant, vivid,

swallowing her feet
as if it were
itself alive
and oh-so hungry.

Comfort: wraps
herself in blankets
patched with thread, woven,
bred through the mantra
that This, This

is Not Real.

“All of this, surely
a dream — potential
she thinks before
it all goes black

“– and I
can’t fucking
wake up.”


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