Funny,
how I used to adore the night;
now I pray my mouth off
for morning to come
faster.
I hate the pitch blackness
that swallows me whole,
but slowly licks and savors me
until there is nothing left and I lie,
facing upward with my eyes
wide open,
until the sky turns
some sort of awkward turquoise-
then,
and only then,
do I know it is safe to
close my eyes
and drift
into some sort of rest.
 
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