The Collector

Disturbed sleepless nights, tossing and turning

With nightmares haunting my reality when

The flaccid raft leaves my stomach churning–

Gasping for air– abandoning me. Will the barge

Come to drift me ashore and the anchor rusts

From my Achilles heel? Awakened by the sound of bellicose

Engines revving; petrified, I stalk the window fearing the man

Down below. Pacing the carpet unable to retreat

Back to my slumber, the looking box becomes my comfort

When its lucid blue glare cascades the room, abating the impression

In my chest that goes Thud! Thud! Thud.


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