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fever dreams.

I am full of fear. Of sorrow. There is an open space in my chest. Absent a rib. I missed out and I know this. I am missing a leg; I will carry on, legless and extra beautiful besides.

I am loved. Joyful. Chemical. Genuine. I don’t need the leg, I brought extra arms. I don’t miss the rib, we are equal now, he and I.

I stopped once to think of everlasting life and the heartache it would bring. I want to be infinite in spirit and finite in body. My life is for the trees: to grow. My blood is for those earthly vampires. Countdown to confusion.

In the summer, I swim trough the air. It hurts my lungs, bur I wade in the shallows. A shiver and the season changes. My lungs still ache: icicles in my throat. They clatter together; a macabre wind chime.

But still I am loved. I grow and change. My leg is remembered fondly, but less everyday. I long for my rib, yet I am complete.

I am beautiful, who are you?

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