Blood drips from death's tear duct
The night's net of dreams 
Masters your mind in chromatic haze
You are pealing the walls in empty houses
Watching one stream of light
Claw through a broken window and
Spill across the floor.
Spread legged you sit on the periphery
Pouring your last words from their box
Carefully counting each one as they run
From the light like cockroaches
They are gone.
There's nothing left to say.
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