It is a picture of me, naked, blurred against a deep-blue background. I am standing, arms raised, perhaps bound, at the wrists. I lean to the left on the same death-angle as Jesus. I have been wrapped as if with barbed wire; but the strands pinching into my skin are simple multi-color strands of Christmas lights.

In this picture of me, blurred colors against my flesh pinned to a blue haze, I wonder, do they burn? Or am I just awake, naked and bound, and dreaming?

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