Twice, your sitting breath
has quickened for no reason other
than the sirens blaring inside your soul
from long ago, so long that
You cannot reach your bones deep down enough
to grasp the memory and snap its neck,
So it croons and laughs and keeps you awake
in the dawnless night,
Well aware that escaping the
sweltering sweat of the former days
is as impossible as
extracting the trauma blood from your veins.
-D.
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