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Weighty!

Weighty! The above balances on my eyelids

They are held shut with tight fingers,

But soon they flicker

Dilate and are prised open to the whiteness

Shapes dance atop on it and spin

Induce such sickness

But they do not go; they hang over the

Desecration beneath, what remains after

The indulgence

I need an ocean to arrive here

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Written by
cooper-kalamat
English
Published
Mar 27, 2013
Lines·Words
10·59
Permission

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