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Night of the Irritable DeadTo Bill Burns's next piece

The Other

In some stories
The Other has your face
Wears you clothes
Knows the back of your hand

The Other returns when you leave
Lingers where you're not
Uses the other set of keys
To open the doors you'd leave locked

The Other sleeps on the ground
When you're warm in your bed
Laughs in big puffy clouds
In the woods soft with snow
Is chased by wild dogs
Through a nightmare nightscape

And loves it

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