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Beth Nethercott

She told me to close my eyes
She told me to think of any colour
That represents my feelings.
I said red.
I could see the red cloud
Pulsating underneath my skin
Slowly revealing
The heaviness of red smoke like
The liquid dust they use at concerts
Misty deep fog

She told me to imagine a jar
She told me to breathe in
Twirling and whirling, red
Now, imagine that red moving from
Your feet, to your legs, to your stomach
And all the way up to your head.
She said, Are you ready?

She told me to breathe out
Releasing red smoke into the jar
Evacuating itself

She said, We are not ignoring you,
we will come back to you later.