breath spent in sleeplessness
plain, pointless sighs, no less
behind the walls, more walls appear
I stare at the ceiling, silent here
like a blocked, aching distant love
I pull a plush frog from my mouth, laughing,
while the sunset dances.
The blind throws up a sickly yellow radiation
as I shift from one imagination
into another, where veins are drawn
onto my wounded imagination till dawn
a cloud makes soup out of itself
its face melts slowly, grimace by grimace
curled-up longings, grey bodies numb
frayed, obscene pictures of loneliness
clog the tear ducts, meaningless
and wait for your cool, graceful hand
until I wake
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