Sundays
The vacuum is the mattress where the fairies sleep
ceiling beams are about to break Something inexplicable
weightless sustains
Wednesday
lime wall
tastes like sugar alcohol is not able to sterilize the punishment
clutter blinds at night
No protest
seek this rest physiological REM Phase Two dreams
Y The alarm alerts.
Saturday will witness the rituals of Perfumed
meat, thirsty,
For Two glasses of confinement
Photo by Kath Jose Maria Gomez, Flickr
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