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The Voyeurs - Edvard Munch
The devil holds melancholy hostage,
and the weight of their stare crushes.
Lungs hold air until it rusts insides;
searing pain hovers playfully
between throat and heart.
- on this invisible half of the page -
Locked in the breached foetal position,
desperate to be soothed,
but without hope of it.
~ This could be where the magic happens ~
picture yourself in a handstand
carefree
with
the
wind
in
your
h a i r
a freeform tumble into life and living
the sea close enough to tickle your toes
waking you from sleep
you need only stretch
regain the agency
of your own body
freedom of movement
to walk away - towards a horizon
with a softer palette of colour
and pale blue skies
open your eyes
see the path
take l u n g f u l s of air
until you're healed from the inside out
speak up.speak out
reclaim your voice
run
jump
cascade -
be free of those crouching demons
get far enough away
to be lost from their line of sight
and out of earshot
of their late-night-
to-early-morn whispers
let the rain fall on their half of the page
so they may be washed away
Do it. Do it now.
Copyright ©
Di11y Da11y
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