it journeys into foreign ground.
The travesties of hope
leave my blooming sight.
My bones lock up,
I shiver as I perspire.
My mind is split between
creatures crawling about my floor
and the other half telling
me they are not there.
I really try hard
for reason to win,
yet temptation of sight and
alterness take over.
The soft side of me, the one that
wants to sleep is all but used up
in the grand scheme of my
paranoiac- anachronism grid.
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