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55 words #8


by Bobbi Lurie



Bright lights blind you

The flat surface of the seen

Endless expectations

 

In the mental hospital…

 

The credibility of cruelty

Beneath the surface

I, too, can be counted

 

The higher we die…

 

The stiller

Our secret

Center

 

Weight of faithlessness…

 

Mist

Of bodily

Existence

 

Grave expectations for the future…

 

“I do not

Remember

A thing”

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