Petits XVIII

What if we do not sleep after all at the end? What if we stay aware in a conscious void? This keeps me up at night.

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The writing stopped

Because it revealed

The truth too plainly

But fate has reminded me today

I knew what i wrote

I knew and i chose to forget.

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I envy your enthusiasm

A matter of time

You say

I nod

Believing

Maybe for all others.

there lies tragedy

there lies tragedy
just beyond the hills
of stones that dot the
fields of the listless dead

*
whatever rest
that was promised
lays unslept

*
treacherous livingness
slithers hither and thither
and nibbles at the ashes
drying upon the waves
hurrying to capture
the soul that remains
trapped in the clutches
of its cursers

*
mercy be upon
all those who slumber
in the slighted hope
of idleness