At Age 23 This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

The shell of a movieworker is all dust
Crumbles away with each exhale
Scatters to the ground like it never existed
Returning to the earth

Sweeping the aisles littered with wrappers and popcorn
Never put in mouths— always on the floor
Crushed up by small children’s feet
And forgotten

The light from that theater was blinding
Could see it through the windows of the apartment complex
Shining into the eyes of those who wished for sleep
Staining bedrooms with artificial illumination

You crack open your eyes and are greeted with the sound
Of those who are lucky— those who pop out of cabs
Lining streets all wanting the same thing
A chance to forget

To bathe in the light in pitch black
The sneaking of a hand intertwining with your own
In the shadows of a once grand theater
That melted into nothing






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