Loves Sleep
i'm no genius or savant, i only know what i want, or need, my bodies
interpretation of my imagination is shifting from left to right, from wrong to
right. the absence of rem is taking it's toll, my eyes won't close and hurt cradles
the soul. my breathing is shallow, or deep, that is up for interpretation, i only
know that i cannot sleep, calm my imagination. love is a small word that has so
many friends, nothing is easy, now, and again, makes no sense, and forever
suffers innocence. resolve and interpretation do little to douse hurts resignation,
and one can only hope for devine intervention, or a slap upside the head, while i lie, here in the dark, tippity tap, tippity tap, where do we begin -
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