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
Alone
And in bed.
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