The Insomniac

T
The dark grips
And prizes open
Flickering eyelids
To stare
Into
Silence
Dreams recede
Slowly, the
Aftertaste of
Memory, though
Uncertain and unsure
Realities hallucination
Silence shattered
The monotonous
Hooting of a
Random owl
Like the whining
Of a Grindr hook up
They say to
Count breaths
Monotony to
Dull the mind
To slip, once more
To sleep
It never works
I need the scent
Of the memory
Of your body,
Your breath
Your lips

Your…….

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badgerslabyrinth

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