the walking shadow creeps past overgrown branches
slyly tunneling into the brown crumbling side wall
chanting demon-like verses of friction-filled destruction
if they streched farther my hair would forever live
as tangled as my mind meditating on the evil
a horror that might wait just beyond the laundry room door
and tumble inside the heated caverns there
like bodies thrown in a cyclical fashion
and the fashion filled compartments join in the tree verses
i think my sox might have walked outside where the shadow will steal my ankles
unless i travel quickly

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