One can only tolerate stillness and stagnation for so long.

These dull-eyed dolls in antique shop windows

Beg for rest,

And cannot sleep

These men with sterling silver bones

And rusted teeth

Will not eat

These moths in flight, weighed down by dust

Have lost the moon

They cannot trust 

These empty chairs in sterile rooms

Squeak and soothe across 

Tongue and groove

These people trapped in frigid Hells

Open the door

And move

The End

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