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Waiting for Azrael

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  Waiting for Azrael The air in the room doesn't move; it simply presses She has long since stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here isn't a sequence, but a weight. The waiting room has fractured, the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum tiling splintering into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream . High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly yellow vibrate against the walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. She pulls her legs inward and forms a tight knot, dressed in indigo and bruised purple. She tries to find a purpose in her world that refuses to stand still. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege , a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She buries her face, lets t...

Celeste Goya's Dog Paradox



Celeste Goya's Dog Paradox
Reawakened as your own victim
From your once grandeur
Of yesterday's colonial might
Enter the paranoia
The loss of identity
Kill to be killed
Rape to be raped
Pilfer to be pilfered

The illusion of territory gained
False promises of maintaining identity
Kill the rabid dog
The dog is you
Protect what you wanted to destroy

To bring this world to an end
To return to your righteousness
Paid through ruthless means
The real cost is your victory







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