Phantoms Of Tent City

The gurney covered in chills from old man winter vents
Disturbing tales overheard involuntarily through these thin cloth walls
A sleep so deep it cannot fathom rest or solace, outside reach, hidden
Defiant vigil, encapsulating carbon empathy, scent of burning ash fragrant
Bvlgari memories under paleo proclivities vanished in whirlwind of chemical olfactories
Sleep… elusive, on the border of useful and useless
Corridors turn and twist, with no beginning or ending
Just another way of stopping
Cold light a lighthouse
Cold sleep a serenade
Sparing no spotlight for formal fears or routine residents


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