And it was curtains on my dreamvision –
wrinkly red ones, as a matter of fact,
with dusty folds that dampened the crimson,
preserving my dreams with a dated tact:
Needless to say, I woke up while sneezing –
A petite mort as some like to call it;
I lived it again  and started wheezing;
And this is how one must cleanse his palate?
"Yes. You'll force the foreign agents away
that way, though it may not feel amazing,
but you're cleaning out your closets today,
discarding your pulverized days of spring."
I guess it's summer now in my body
and mind; A small death, yes, but Time caught me.

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