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Jun 2014
Let the molecules charge and *****
and rip the world right open
around me.

Let the closet under the stairs
smoke and fry and cook,
let the tangled wires melt
into each other like they'll
never let go,
their flashing shadows
welded arm in arm like a
Pompeii puppet show.

Let the air's discontent
rumble softly and
let the rattling house rock me to

To sleep, perchance to dreamβ€”
it is not fear I fear, but the lack of it.
Amelia Glass
Written by
Amelia Glass  22/NY
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