I’ll just keep writing

until my eyes are bleary,

hoping the words run out

and I can get some real rest.

Every night of lost sleep

for the last six years is

finally catching up with me.

I don’t want this awareness

anymore; some days the

weight is too much to carry.

“Sleep it off, sweetheart.

The aching bones

are growing pains.”

Every moment I am dying

in this world, I lend loam to

the next exhibits incarnation.

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