Sleep, never-ending conscious,
thunder, spray dashing against
the windowpane, in the distance
railroad cars, clang, clang, clang.
Sleep, gulls screaming float through
the air, wild and free, diving into
the white frothy waves, living without
Sleep, ghost trampling upon the mind
and soul, brushing shoulders with
death they surge across time wanting
their story told.
Sleep, wanting the body to relax, flip
right, flip left; the noise of the world
springs from every nerve, wistfully let
there be silence, calmness come back,
come back, come back.
Sleep, brooding, daggers in the back, rise,
dress, the night will never be soothing;
those words in the head keep moving,
mind in a rage sitting silently staring at
the blank page.
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