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Greg Frankson

The Blackened Room

open the door

step inside the contours of your fear

caress the warp in your perception

that braids devastation to your cranium

tight like rows of Negro corn

as each footfall draws you deeper

wrap yourself in the blackness

like a discomforted comforter

too warm that leaves you sweaty restless

confused discombobulated equilibrium

dissolve matter into the ether

argue spiritedly with the lives

you'd meant to live before ..


This


the door groans shut behind you

cuts off all possibility of escape

bidden by the highest bidder

who enslaves you to new terror

bitter as the sea salt that transported

anxiety-addled chattel from foreign sands (to read more... https://www.africanthology.ca). .

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