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	<title>Gathering the Stories  &#187; Plague</title>
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		<title>death sinks uneasy in the appetites of the lost</title>
		<link>https://www.gatheringthestories.org/2020/10/20/death-sinks-uneasy-in-the-appetites-of-the-lost/</link>
		<comments>https://www.gatheringthestories.org/2020/10/20/death-sinks-uneasy-in-the-appetites-of-the-lost/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Oct 2020 06:24:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Haven</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Blog]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Musings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Plague]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[“Sleep apnea is a plague in the western world.” ― Steven Magee She passed out in a cacophony of memories. All the pretty dreams, Dissected and worn. She fell asleep to the sound of old records. All the pretty covers, Creased and torn. She curls her lips to the worlds she dreams. All the murmured [&#8230;]]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<blockquote><p>“Sleep apnea is a plague in the western world.”<br />
― Steven Magee</p></blockquote>
<p>She passed out in<br />
a cacophony of memories.<br />
All the pretty dreams,<br />
Dissected and worn.</p>
<p>She fell asleep to<br />
the sound of old records.<br />
All the pretty covers,<br />
Creased and torn. </p>
<p>She curls her lips<br />
to the worlds she dreams.<br />
All the murmured words,<br />
Bathed with scorn. </p>
<p>She walks unaware of<br />
the stilts of gravity.<br />
All the heavy faces,<br />
Draped and creased. </p>
<p>A mask now covers<br />
her mouth, as her<br />
eyes attempt the<br />
words<br />
of sleep. </p>
<p>Sometimes death sinks uneasy<br />
in the appetite of the lost,<br />
A ritual with<br />
no rite. </p>
<p>It has been since time<br />
that plagues feel the<br />
urge to breath,<br />
eyes blink uneasy<br />
behind<br />
concealed ironies.</p>
<p>© Si Matta </p>
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