(ESP) I've Heard

the ghost of myself several times in the black morning insomniac. Nothing has passed--not the whispers of near parallels. I hear, I've just returned from a jaunt, creeping back up the centuries young planks of the boarding home stairs. Why has it rained so long? Something beneath me trembles. Something around me quivers. Something in me stirs. A presence pinching the nerves along my spine & eating something like a cookie.

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