Worry needles into your sleep until you snap awake, restless.
You peep behind heavy, psychedelic curtains to guess at the time from the shade of the sky. The air is a quiet, icy chill, tickled by the skitter of an eight-legged critter that skids across glass brushed with the dappled stain of past dirty rains.
A spindly silhouette.
It dances, it dances just for you.
Listen, listen, from dream to daylight
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