3:30

There's a slice of it

sliding through my curtains

reminding me of your lunacy in the purest sense of

the word

I am

tired and d d d d a bunch of forced coughs

and think k k k king of you

as I draw out words to ignore the slowing rate of the passing of time

deep in the edges of my ash stained couch

drawing deep from the edges of my memory for words that I

can't seem to find

and the slice of it is

not quite fully formed

and the ants in my eyes/

not quite fully focused

on the task of falling asleep

it's 3:23 in the morning and

my academic sleeping patterns are playing tricks on my mind

and d d d a bunch of forced blinking

is mak k k k king my eyes hurt

and, well

I should sleep

but my fingers cannot stand keys as a replacement for your spine

so I'll tap poetry into plastic

until I see you again