The mannequins favour zero gravity, breathlessness, the labyrinth of stars. 

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The mannequins inhabit a forgotten planet, orbiting your daydreams. 

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The mannequins will accuse you of anything. Their courtroom is lodged behind your eyes. 

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Time is kept on a leash. When the mannequins laugh, it digs up your bones. 

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Look in the mirror. While you slept, the mannequins left scarlet lipstick stains on your throat. 

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Originally published as a series of tweets.