Lately sleep is sleep but ain’t, dreams aren’t dreams but queens, unqualified to mollify my Maker. I shelve repentance ’til later, as if I don’t procrastinate my fate on the daily. When the duality in individuality isn’t its dominant trait, I may return to the root cause, parts of myself I’ve forgotten how to appreciate. I tailored love to survival but it’s lost its allure. Besides,
the only girl in the world took that with her.
So I looked for reincarnation, a romance more pure. Rest assured, I haven’t
found it yet, but rebirth is
I had to learn to be honest about dying first.
I had to split down the middle, learn how to volley between mania and melancholy, each usurping balance with sprawling narratives
and not face triple threat.
Lately sanity is a children’s tale, ones our parents failed to contest as fiction, and this midnight…
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