When did thinking become so dull?
Chasing empty dreams only a misconception

She said.

Inarticulate inquisitions you ask?
This phantasm was only the reality

4:30 am.


Loosened diffidence and exhausted qualms are haunting the insomniac.
Forty hours now, dear: cognizance.
Dissipate.
These feelings won't be pushing up daisies just for you.
Recollections are repeating themselves beneath bedsheets
And lies squirm, tell-tale, when tongued by the confused.


Can you imagine her to sleep?
Tell a goodbye worth believing

or none.

A disparate yarn now entangled and true?
Feel the shifting of her teeth

abate.