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Nov 2020
Suddenly it was different
the toggles turned over
and I was picked up

I brace myself, fallen through
something, a membrane
between order and overpower

Carry me away, I want heavens
of pastel and gray after the outings
in my room and in the hallway
not a dropped ceiling

Back home, in the light
of my own windows
between the plants, the pillar
and the post of pain

thinly covered with anxious dreams
in which I don't want to be snowed under
no matter how tight the ties squeeze

In pyjamas I suffer myself
clamping my cup in my hands
I won't let go
For Maria Godschalk #95

Collection β€œOn living on"
Zywa
Written by
Zywa
48
 
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