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Dear foxhound, that’s your own tail you’re chasing
Are you tossing and flailing inside?
Wailing at the silence, grappling with your own limbs?
Remember that clear blue afternoon?
Talk to me:
Why do the happiest recollections
Wreathe you in that doleful, deserted look?
As though you’d lost something?
You were always afraid of heights
Even while dancing on the edge of the precipice
You were always afraid of the fall
I know it when you twist and crumple
All caught up in hurt and dolour
The rhythm of your heaving lungs
The convulsions of your glistening countenance
It’s all too familiar
But with a blind eye and the chamber music on
I could almost be convinced that you are laughing
I’m laughing, anyway
— You look like a fish drowning in water
I know it’s only me you’re trying to tear apart
Your skin, too tired to stretch and fold on your command
A suffocating film over a body breathing yet
I know I’ve been sleeping
Deaf to the clock’s chiming
To their praise and their berating
But I hear you screaming
A haunting, invigorating sound
So I am groping for direction
Traipsing through the brume
I will never lose the scent
Until I find my pride again
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