No Sleep.
Times like these
I wish for cigarettes,
comfort in a burning wick
or filter.
Instead I turn to indie music
wish I could cry
but my eyes stay
horribly dry.
Why is everyone else sleeping
and I lie here
so awake,
on pins and needles?
I write poetry. Whenever I get around to typing it up, I post it here. Mostly in large batches once every few weeks or so. Enjoy.
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