No sleep tonight.
Sleep to recharge, I'm whirring.
Sleep to pull yourself under and dream,
mattress-platform,
colours and cords,
cogs and clocks,
fight or flight,
the girl that keeps you sane.
Wired to fit and yet so
meaninglessly tired.
Future's approaching,
I didn't get the memo,
Fuck.
What to do with these dreams.
To tie them to words and release them, folding, from Dover,
To analyse and study them,
To scrutinize and squeeze the last drop.
My dreams scare the shit into me,
But they keep me glued,
Clarity and astronomies of guilded longing from behind my eyes.
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