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Beth Nethercott

My radio plays.

Cars drifting like poles on a magnet,
The attraction causing me to
Twist, crumble, swivel

Breaking the double yellow lines like
The veins running through my arms;
Glass shattering,
The tiny pieces embedding themselves inside me,
A memento forever

Branches bending their shapes to attack
Snapping from bone to bone
Tumble and tumble and tumble

My radio still plays.
Drowning everything out.