i wrote this two years ago:

she woke up. what a bad dream, this one . the same dream as the other two-hundred, but it felt so real this time. She felt around the bed. It was there, she just knew it. She could smell the pink in the air, it had to of been there. She shook it off, felt the pink fall off of her nightgown. She hopped in the shower. The sprinkler head pushed out the steaming hot water onto her canvas. She hoped to wash off the dream. She hoped the water wouldcleanse her of the fright. For she knew where the center of fright stood… In between delicate feminist color & painful death. She moved her hand around her breast, but all she felt was silk. Tears rolled down her silk and into the collection of others acquired before. She knew what was coming. She sat on her bed and waited until finally she passed out. The ribbons came this time. Wrapping around her brain until her circulation was depleted.“About time,” she thought.

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