Ever have one of those nights in sickness
A torment of monsters
Dancing their agony to you while you sleep?
You can't really call it sleep so much as a project
In which you have no choice
Nowhere else to go
But strapped to this bed with your mind glued open to a 100 cut scenes of
the movies of your past
This constant highway of undead familiars steal from you
Minute by minute as 10:30 turns into 10:31
And 2:10 feels like when am I going to get some sleep please dear God
Wistful for last nights' pastel rolling scape where the soul rested in
deep unknowing
And when morning finally comes to greet you
Among the shards of rest
You can feel your senses again
A small hole of reality in the pine against the sky
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