Midnight fevers words of pose.

Each breath brings solitude and silence.

With Her sisters betwixt and bewildered.

The sting of its honesty is a matter for scholars. Pain it’s self the indulging child of peace.

Yet each hour brings the tireless dawn on to barren eyes, the stars nap-sacs of dreams unborn.

Only if I could rest.

Stretching, burning TIRED are these bones, the weight of reality shifts the comfort forward, leaving a juicy rut of despicable pain.

Try and drown out the noise of darkness when your head is louder than your own voice.

Shifting in sleep; laughing for sleep.

It still burns.

Hunger sets in.



One thought on “Midnight fevers words of pose.

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