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Sunday, January 23, 2011


The angel of Nightmist
runs its fingers through my hair
sows the seed of insomnia
In my physical through a cold scar

Eyelids struggle to stay in embrace
Slide apart everso slowly
I catch dark wisps of escape
Disappearance of something not lowly

I struggle to my feet, to glance
at the moon, smiling, in my window
its messengers have done their task
made me a part of its sorrow

For i can hear, the voices cry out
slow, clear and cold under the winter silver
Curiosity, oh you be damned
Nightmist beckons to foray into uncharted there.

Clear as the sky that was
my eyes stare out into the effusive glow
I can only befriend and embrace
this insomnia that I let grow.

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