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Friday, May 8, 2015

sleeping awake

i sit
to write

and nothing comes.










it is a wakeful sleep.

too tired to sleep. too tired to

wade through the mire of
the day's thoughts.

so alive. fresh. full of possibility.
twelve
hours
ago.

now they sleep somewhere in my brain.

wandering. somnambulating.

they have wandered somewhere

not to be found.

and the sleep comes heavy.

my eyes.
my brain.

the peace of it is alluring.
but these walking words, these ideas, these thoughts

know
no
real
rest.

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