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Zach Claycomb Jan 2015
Rising with resistance,
eyes glued shut attempt
to flicker with dissidence.
Floodgates burst with roaring light.
Grogs of apparent dust
roll from the tongue
as the throat swallows Velcro.
The brain and the heart switch places,
pounding with impatient adrenaline.
The internal rooster has crowed.
Stand up.
Frogs have logs
mogs have grogs
kog have nogs.

— The End —