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Thursday, December 2, 2010

Awake or is it dreaming

How awake are we that our eyes burn.
55, 56, 57... Monsters crawl across our toes,
we're laughing with our friend, the ghost
and sleep escapes our dreary grasp yet again.
"Closer, my dear," calls Death.
We shut off the lights, and look at the regrets that found.
No, you horrible nightmare, you. 
I forbid you to enter my bedroom.
Flip the hourglass upside right over
a thousand times so much we forgot which side is up.
Our world is topsy turvy,
this dream a copy of the last.
I've seen this all before, we think.
We wonder how much time has passed.

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