i woke
in the middle
of the night
to see
the wispy image
of a woman
staring down
at me
from the ceiling
her features
were familiar
her eyes
pure hatred
in waves
that seemed
to contort
as she whispered
my every
into the solemn

the rust dried, a trail running down his upper lip, the stabbing behind his right eye, the agony in every simple movement

he accepts his punishment, happily sobbing into the emptiness, unaware of the uncertainty that cradles his empty skull

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