Focus: This Picture (III)

Let this be the last time
Sunlight threatens to smell
Like the end of the world
The last time weakness
Is the only chair where
Dark and light struggle for a soul
In these final minutes
This final creak of light
When the soul drips like
Milk dead by a broken bottle
Like air in a torn oxygen suit
As the door closes
As the light deems
As the soul follows
Flowing to its dream


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