When I can’t sleep, I go to my cave,
that little recessed part in my own mind
saved for my illusions and their stories.
In my little niche, dark hues strangle the light
in an attempt to keep me quiet,
save my fingers dancing on the dust floor,
scratching out rhyme and reason.
2008
that little recessed part in my own mind
saved for my illusions and their stories.
In my little niche, dark hues strangle the light
in an attempt to keep me quiet,
save my fingers dancing on the dust floor,
scratching out rhyme and reason.
2008
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