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I dream. I sometimes dream
Of a mongoose in my cage
So that I can feel.
So that plight or pleasure
Might move me,
Because I feel nothing
For Justine or Juliette.
A reluctant stoic,
Something keeps me
From beating in time.
There are snakes in my chest,
Constricting tighter and tighter
Around my ribs.
Cracking bones,
Squeezing ventricles,
Pumping venom.
And in my waking life
I don't even care anymore.

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