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Abraham Gibson
she came back
the canvas
was smearedw
ith the serum
he cut
and toiled
and she stood
there before him
her phantom
washed over him
his every nerve
exposed
his insides
hollow
like a guitar
the sleeper
the sleeper
is fetal
ghostriders
cackling in
his dreams
he follows
the staircase
punches holes
in imaginary
mornings
he tries to
scream but
nothing comes out
the nausea clouds
the nausea clouds
thick diabolical mists
seasickness sitting
in the parlor
following the yellow brick road
to the emerald city
spent lovely lazy times
lounging amongst the poppies
the ugly oil smell
drags me away
kicking and screaming demanding
a sacrifice to the industry
the vibrating gallery
weaving in and
out of sight
leaning on the
shoulder of the road
losing hold of
the tightrope
an acrobat falls
to his death
eyes focus
on minute details
in the distance
on the canvas
bells ring
oh! from a
dream that
flushes your cheeks
**Copyright 2007 Abraham Gibson, all rights reserved
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