Emerging from the front door, I fall into a sighing mouth. Maybe the spiders waiting in the depths below will leave my body and only suckle upon my bleeding hands & love hiding behind the transparent door. The shouting curtains blow and ripple in the air, but the stage they veil remains vacant. My descent captures the eye of the audience, as I land hard in the orchestra. Looking at you, your eyes speak of their sockets, the sockets hiding from me the brain that finds me among the stars and laughs with sparks and mallards. Tomatoes are thrown from they anticipating the show. You say to me, with the wink of an eye, that the shadows must consume you again. The wings of this magnificent theater suck you in and set you down among the dusty furniture ripped with springs growing like mushrooms from the yellow foam.
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