Closet résidents


I know they are here

The residents of closet scratch the doors of the eyelids with a machete blunt. Screaming dreams, poisonous tingles. Monkeys scratch the molecular light. Their nails fall and crash to become dust. Caterpillars agonize, the legs in jolts, body in shock, hairs in a static stop. The moths in despair, their wings die under a rain of rags. The barbed-haired junkies howl their sick orgasm. Sweet silence scream of the closet's residents.

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