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Clementine Porridge

Tight rope telephone wire I tangle, unbalanced attempting to cross this tangible electrified fence.

I dream of the other side, with worry deceased and meeting smiles in the streets.

Watching raindrops fall in line as it stops time, the sky burning orange and resonating clementine porridge.

Tight rope telephone wire I curse on every liar who said climbing higher made you feel brighter.

It's uncertain, and I'm certain, there was no precaution that bystanders and side-walkers retreat and draw their curtains.

When does this nimble tie snap? When will my body sprawl like Mothers flapjack?

I dream of the other side, without responsibility encompassing me and stepping out of this nightmare riddled reality.

By Anna Johnson

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