fishing line lassoed
round your heart.
each tug creates
a laceration.
classic piano feeds your ears.
loud.
alone,
ghosts surround you.
each latch on
with a sharp iron jaw
and feed,
relentless.
all is still
and company is sparse
blood pours from your mouth,
the pressure resumes.
the ghosts coax from you
one scream, to the ceiling
another, the sky
a third, distant nebulae and
twin neutron stars.
each reaching farther distances
than the one before it.
alone,
a "help wanted" sign
hangs from your neck.
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