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Apr 2016
Dead people crawling up the stairs.
Embracing their together arms in
a symphony of panic.

I hear their wailing throats
emitting deathly groans.

I cover my ears.
I ignore them.

Let the dead return to their graves.
They have no place here.

Still, I sense they are here.
Encircling me.
Reaching out for me.
Welcoming me to their
cavernous holes in the ground.

I scream in silent vowels.
Gasping for air.
Holding my arms tightly
at
my sides.

Don't touch me rotted things!
Don't speak to me.
I do not want to listen
to your unearthly sighs.

My
thoughts
are
jangled
in
terror.

Why are they here?

Death rattles.
Smells of decayed flesh.
These surround me.

These
are
symbols
of
motivated
malice.

Useless resistance.
Surrender to them.
Join them.

Dead people crawling up the stairs.
I am with them now.
Chris G Vaillancourt
591
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