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freewriteyo
2:05 am / Saturday, Oct. 18, 2008

I can't rest my head.
my pillows are stuffed too full
with dreams
and dread,
I close my eyes to see the back side
of their lids.
My substantial existence,
my impartial resistance
The impromtu repetition
of my flaws--
I'm in awe of their power.

What a day to count hours--
what an hour to decay
shed layers of clothing like I'm paying my debts
nude sleepy cold sweats--
my body's 'I told you so!'


I am strong in my weakness,
weak from my strength
the stench of my loathing astounds even me.
It resounds in my throat--my neck.

attack!
attack!
and shell out your dignity!
fashion myself back to certainty.
Reassureity.
obscurity.
bull-shittery.

The pillow is warm
burning from my spinning brain--
perhaps in the morning I will feel real again.
Perhaps in the morning I will feel wrong again.
It's a chance I will take
for the sake of sleep--
for the benefit of my doubts.
for their cause.
their effect.

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