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A Simillacrum Mar 2019
Chants in droning, layered voices
spin around me as the portal whips and swirls.

Vision leaves for blindness, then
returns again in purple tunnels, bending, twisting.

My mind appeals to enlightened reason
as a pain begins to escalate.

Somehow, I know the feeling coming,
and this one, I do not want to come.

My feathers and my skin, then reject
my body in its whole. I feel it peel away.

— The End —