can't sleep - roll over
roll back - mind sobers
tomorrow drones on and on and on
in my head as the minute hand takes on
the form of a man who is torturing me
like a rattling fan or a faucet that leaks
closing my eyes but my mind can't be closed
thinking about how fast eight hours goes
1 comment:
this reminds me of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez passage I read this afternoon in "Love in the Time of Cholera"
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