of sheets, covers, and everything else in between.

up that ceiling

of the old and the used

the battered flow of sensations

a circle at center,

held up high

held up forever

barred with bars like prison waves

the bottom is dark and painful;

elbows are screaming with pain and suffering

oh, a plight of deed and tears,

like a journey to and back..






for the nights are always misgiving.

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