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"Escape"
Morgan Belden
November
Taylor Woodworth
Shortly after the geese fly south
and the Jack O’Lantern smile
melts into a grimace,
darkness begins to infect.
Spreading like fog over a
desolate graveyard,
the night cloaks
the cityscape
and I lay sleepless.
Between the unfinished
tasks of the day and
the sound of midnight scraping
my name into a lone headstone,
I’m afraid the only
dream-like state I will inhabit
is the all too familiar
4am delirium.
My monochromatic days consist
of searching for the
REM cycle on the washing machine
and endless hours
of sitcom laugh tracks
that giggle at me every time
I stumble walking up the stairs.
Every hour I sink a little
deeper into my memory
foam mattress,
and hope that the sun will come
to rescue me from dusk.
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