My nightmares pierce no more
The seems of my mind
They have become blunt and rusty
Though bored of repeating themselves
They recur with
The punctuality of a steno
They retype on the shriveled surface of my brain
The scripts of lost possession
Of lost intimacies of love making
In the dawn
They slide through my mind
Flow through my veins
And ooze out of my vagina
I fear no more
An imminent morning sickness
A month goes by
Trotting.
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