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Poetry

Sleepwalker

A swan

And the dripping shower drain is my best friend

Grinding eternity’s soft face into rug burn

Hair whispers secrets into the feathers of a downy pillow

Watching intently every evening

As the remainder spills from the skull like a tea spout

Moistens a dream with tasteless poison

Shallow slices in the windowsill

Spell out a pitiful jargon

Only the deathbed can translate

Rising slowly for a last smirking remark

The bitter spit of fate

A moment outside of the skin

I wasn’t finished

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by Mariahneumaier

I am an artist and writer in Richmond, VA. I currently freelance social media and graphics and work at a Gallery. In my free time you can find me meditating or studying all things occult.


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