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Dec 2019
He prowls,
loose and deadly,
fears,
light and hungry.

But they don't tell him,
NO,
they don't tell
if they're laughing
or crying.

(Aren't they moving their mouths?)

He pleads,
flailing,
wanting to fail,
but he warns them, still,

(Why aren't you afraid?)

they don't stop him.

He should run,
save them.

(Please listen!)

He can't,
and black shields him.

(Stop hurting me.)

Void and
blinding
and gone,

he stands,
towers.

(Don't look at me.)

There are strands
on his fingers,
pulling the bones,
digging,
gripping,

touching,

(Tasting?)

next to nothing
around him,
and black pierces,
picks him.

(Where did they go?)

He hears them part,
then gnashes them,
gnaws them,
his snarls beg from them,

(Where did you go?)

and it panics,
urges,
burrows
in skin

(Get out of my ears.)

They sicken his eyes,
cover them,
throw them,

(Get out of my ears.)

sense leaves him with nothing.
As nothing,
he stands,

(Move.)

he prowls,

(Move.)

loose,

(Move me.)

deadly,

(Make me.)

and fears,

(Warn me!)

light,

(Me.)

and hungry.


;Narcissist.
Orchid T Aspen
Written by
Orchid T Aspen  22/Bigender/Southeastern US
(22/Bigender/Southeastern US)   
248
   Christine Ely
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