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Born from the shadows of bodies within the gallows, I write with the pen dipped in the blood and the sorrows. I write for those …

Poems

.Paralyzing memoriesdiscovered a milliondeep pockets inmy mind fromwhich to pouncelike a purple panther,or a compressed clown in a music box at anygiven time. Doubtseparates black light from sun, solidifyingshadows too afraidto leave the securityof the wall, anchoredin frozen, motionlesssafety. Relax, relax!Set the shadows a-blaze. Forget the oldcurtains, the carpet,just burn the shadowsdown. DOWN! JUSTBURN THEM! DOWN!We all fell. The shadowsand I slithered to the burn-ing floor along with theshadows as my macaronimind came to a rolling boil.My memories marched offin single file.File byfile.