The loosely hung ends of your broken wire-frame silhouette,
like the live wires protruding from the bottom of
an abandoned electric pole of a deserted village
follow me through my sleep,
eager to clutch my hands.
A razor blade drops,
I take the cue, the circuit is closed.
I whisper to the bearded night,
'Save me from myself'
like the live wires protruding from the bottom of
an abandoned electric pole of a deserted village
follow me through my sleep,
eager to clutch my hands.
A razor blade drops,
I take the cue, the circuit is closed.
I whisper to the bearded night,
'Save me from myself'
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