April 30, 2017
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From the foot of the bed, lies
A hairless claim,
Wielding sockets of
Winking beads,
Reflecting the light of their creator

Blinking with its full body,

Such as a child
Ceases a nightmare with
Eight seconds of
Sleep paralysis


Death is quiet
And birth, booming with echoes
When the two coincide,
The noise is but
A swan splash

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