Flamingos

quicksand motel dreams
each night lost in these white sheets
and wondering why I’m counting through
family trees in my REM-like wandering
reaching for a familiarity that’s
undressed in the sunlight peaking through
shadow-laden blinds given the choice of
streaming through the cracks or
shrinking back to where I came from

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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