Bent.

The dancers sleep like horses.
An upright, en pointe slumber.

Cyborg music box ballerinas,
Like ice, sculptures gracefully cold.

Company cacophony
Frantic for the abduction.

Our dreams, as sparse as our minds.
Xenophilic, captive in dance.

Wearing blinders, they don’t think
About their lives,

They sleep standing up.

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~ by Jade Elizabeth on August 31, 2012.

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