| [.//Insomnia Theatre] |
Gabriella
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Terrible screeching silence on such a night; | 1 |
windows open, talking talking talking. | 2 |
Along the street flowed a gusty river of | 3 |
letters written in insomnia like zombie scriptures | 4 |
at the pace of canes tapping on streets, | 5 |
persistent like blind men seeking their homes. | 6 |
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I sleep under trees of graveyards embroidered with daisies | 7 |
fastened just as tightly as pillowed-in ribs | 8 |
that are safe and sound in blissful atrophy. | 9 |
Their ashes, quaint and small like beetles, | 10 |
cover the dirt under soiled bare feet. | 11 |
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Every day is the same as tomorrow; | 12 |
waking up to the saving clock | 13 |
consistent like Rixes' suicidal suns. | 14 |
I wander from tombs where spirits rest | 15 |
to a white walled fortress where spirits linger. | 16 |
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They hang on red crosses... | 17 |
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There is a dawning plague skulking, bloodbound, | 18 |
in headaches and ripcords, | 19 |
taking our "money", taking our "children", | 20 |
and any second now we'll cry at last these | 21 |
dry burning tears, filthy like syringes brimming with mercury | 22 |
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and this problem is sitting in the back seats of hatchbacks | 23 |
between malicious entwined hands. | 24 |
It's something we sort of...encountered along the way... | 25 |
Eventually, it meant less and less so we pushed away | 26 |
with blemished fingers through stacks and piles of sterile bodies. | 27 |
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little girls, boys, babies, mothers, fathers: lost. | 28 |
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Enter a refuge for denial. | 29 |
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