Swarming
I’m lying on the edge of a dark drifting ceiling,
Too far below, yet falling through reeling.
This bed of clouds brings comfort but teeming,
The buzzing of insects infesting the dreaming.
Bed-bound by bolas which winding by brain,
Dizzying in effort while I untie in strain.
Cries muffled by specks that trample the feigned,
Droning ‘til deaf, again silent in pain.
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