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I found her hiding in my closet, knees to her chest, head down, not quite soaked in blood. After she got cleaned up and tucked in, I watched her unfurl her little claws as she dreampt, occasionally twitching with small tearing movements, slowly winning me over to her side. My villainess floats.

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I was I, asleep. Uncanny how things end. A brand new predator in a jungle with no friends. But who could blame me? My hands tattooed red. Face like a baby but I wouldn't change a thing, not a thing. I am I, sleeping. A means became an end. Instead of running I lost myself again. But what have I become? It's frightening even me. The less I know now the more I know I see. I was just a girl then, ridiculous and thin. When I gave up I swam and I swung in, I'm swimming. I was I, asleep. we all used to go to church. Don't roll your eyes at me. You look and you try to touch. I was always waiting on a slow fade in. So sick of searching crowds where I had been. I was just a girl then. Ridiculous and thin when I gave up, I swam and I swung in the legs of strangers, built stronger than my own. It took so long to feel like this was home.

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from Cracked and Crooked, released March 3, 2014

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The Post Mortems Iowa City, Iowa

Bass and Drums alternative rock duo. Gothique, not gothic.

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