A bell jar encloses a perfect idea
An endless beach of untouched sand
A dog with a pitchfork and a flock of carrion birds wait outside
A humanless terrarium.
Oh, to get close
The boy crouches,
the birds crouch
He can find no approved allies
It will become a grave of his desires
Closed doors
No peace
But the sand.
The sand.
Run instead for the dangerous currents,
Jump into the sea.
The moon reflects against the glass
I have been sifted and I will not be saved.
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