Anterrabae

Introverted and crucified;
Post-apocalyptic daydreams of Hell
A consequence of life.
A hair in eye.
Helene is still struggling to stay afloat.
A knock on the door
Or am I just dreaming?
Voice trembling;
Hands with pale flesh
And neatly trimmed fingernails.
Crop circles and creamsicles.

I am homesick
For a planet that never existed.

In mourning I lie still,
Close my eyes
And scream.

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