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lucid
tonight the streetlamps
are bleeding shadows beneath
the notches of my elbows
they flash, like dulled strobe lights
and I’m suddenly struggling to garner
a coherent picture: my muscles protesting
against skin
I am blown up
a balloon
no, I am ribs
and collarbones
skin and hollow spaces
blown up
only to implode:
as in: cave in
my sneakers slam with
deafening silence
in the middle of this empty
road, I am adrenaline slammed
into inertia
I am swimming
in my clothes
far too big
I am cardboard-food
and stomach and balloons
ribs and knobby elbows
I am stolid while
navigating this night:
a mess of dark and gnarled
branches and alarming
red stop signs
a funhouse room
full of ugly images
projected by
funhouse
mirrors
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