Friday, July 28, 2006

5am is too late on one end, too early on the other.

There's nothing I can do at night
To stop the mind from creeping
To stop the insecurity from peeking in at me
Well, there's sleep
But sleep has always been the enemy
The manxome tendrils sinking into my spine
And rooting me, rotting

What if I just simply am not?
Would it be better to be non-extant?
Wouldn't things remain the same?

I need more reason than you,
Because if I put it all in you
And something shiny steals your attention
Where am I?

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