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Stillness of the white surrounds us;
Almost like a coverlet of fog.
The parapet tiled same as the floor,
While thinking of the foaming deep,
A single soft wave is wished
To lull one into sleep.
The thought is replaced by the heat of a needle;
Erect and waiting.
At the room’s heart lies a figure;
Still as a dark river stone.
Its eyes glossed over with the nightly haze
Of temptation.
All masked creatures
Dance merrily round the figure;
Whom now lies elevated on steel slab.
The thickness of desire wavers
Upon the scene as the corners of the victim’s eyes
Seize to see.
The dull masked-men stop to stare;
Each beast wielding weapon of choice.
The figure formed from stone,
Has a chest that beats wildly under white shroud.
The perpetual rhythm returns as a stillness
Looms over the white-washed walls.




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