Tuesday, July 8, 2014


And in bed
I reach down with my hand 
And shove it into my chest
Where a heart should be. 
It grabs at nothing. 
It comes back covered 
In sludge and tar.
A thing alive as it climbs my arm
And threatens to steal my air.
It races up my shoulder. 
It squeezes my neck. 
I gasp and kick
And claw at my face.
And then I wake up
And in bed. 

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