I wrote this with my Magnetic Poetry set.

sleeping beneath a thousand whispers
a moment of languid dreaming like love
the raw urge to lick your skin
pink like the sweetest peach
I ache for the time I will see you

Sleeping like it's the only thing left, possibly it is the only thing that you know how to do anymore. Strip all your clothes off and climb into bed, like stumbling, your head would crack if the bed wasn't soft. There is nothing graceful about these movements, this fatigue, and the world spins around your little island before you fall.

Your mind turning like a thousand little hamster wheels, and your eyes stay shut with a million exploding colors of light. You should be wondering about nausea, does it make sense to get motion sickness in bed? This weariness is something beyond an active day, this weariness is coming to you from a galaxy away, through waters and whispers and heavy clouds.

With all this travelling the potency and weight of tiredness does not diminish, it grows stronger and full of scrambled messages. Fall. Stumble even as you are lying there and fall into a softer place than the pillow.

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