For your lifeline,
all your exits
lead you back
towards an entrance
without a door.
For your lifetime,
demeaned,
while transfixed
on vital cords,
seconds retreat.
Breaths
are brought in,
once the venom
sets back in,
reminding you
that you
can’t let go.
Dreams
are dominant
where delusions
are buried,
enough to face you
in a direction
towards a wall.
Its iron surface,
reeks of the blood
you leave
as a trail
for a savior
to follow.
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