awakened unsettled
and cut loose the anchor
eyes burnt and dreaming still
heart lurches
feeling ill-
the truth lingers
grasping questions and answers
doldrums encompass bruised shoulders
there is no grey area.
there is no moderate hysteria.
so assail the blasphemer
find more of never
swallow the disenchantment
and over come it.
dance on the grave you've escaped.
dance and remember that face.
(you send letters)
(trying to tell me something)
(i wash myself clean)
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