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Swarming

I’m lying on the edge of a dark drifting ceiling, Too far below, yet falling through reeling. This bed of clouds brings comfort but teeming, The buzzing of insects infesting the dreaming. Bed-bound by bolas which winding by brain, Dizzying in effort while I untie in strain. Cries muffled by specks that trample the feigned, Droning ‘til deaf, again silent in pain.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things