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Z Deep.

Hide
from the weather
in your artificial cave,
controlled environment.

Count your lucky stars,
somewhere up
there, obscured from view,
brought to you
by the damned light pollution.

Wrap yourself in a cocoon
of warmth
inside a box within a box,
try and fall
comfortably within, deeper
than the skin,
bodies like Russian dolls
trapped
in Chinese boxes,

sinking
into reflections
nesting reflections,
cleansed in the plunge
into this dark, unconscious sea.

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