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Mar 2017
I wake from a dream, the same dream I always have; I find myself inside an empty  space dominated by pitch black.

A scuttle behind me -no in front-
I can't tell in this darkness; my senses are fouled and my whit seemingly nil.

Something grabs, stabs, scrapes;
I feel my skin tear on the arm then the leg then the back, my sense of touch has not gone as the wounds hemorrhage.

I scream and I run not knowing what lies ahead, the noise follows to mock; from scuttle to screech to caw to- gone.

There's a light ahead, I can see it pulse as I press on; my bare bloodied feet making a steady slap and squish on the floor not there.

A whoosh above and heat driven wind forces me down; welcoming the warm kiss from below I don't resist it.

I fall continuously spiraling out of control into oblivion until I feel the ground approaching and I embrace the gory end.

I feel nothing on impact as I watch my casing burst to a ****** rain.
I wake from a dream, the same dream I always have.
JJ Cooke
Written by
JJ Cooke  USA
(USA)   
337
 
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