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by Victor Altshul
I said I know who you are
that was all it may have been a lie
the blackness had not been like sleep
there had been no something there
no something where
don't think about it now
ghosts are hissing at me,
whispering of dripping caverns.
inside are slimy creatures.
I believe they are called fossils
cut by fossil doctors with long knives
take the water away throat hurts.
no one told me I'd be wheeled inside
and held down and
Life is a piece of string pulled tight.