eighteen

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dreams of honey and smoke linger,
a bittersweet taste not far ftom asphyxiation.
a chain of three sleeping upon my breastbone,
synchronised beats outside my ribs.

when i opened my eyes,
i could not tell where reality ended and fantasy begun.
a disillusionment of naivety,
the nector of ignorance,
is too addictive
to stop.

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