For the third night in a row I lie awake with heavy, blood-filled, eyes that, despite many long hours of sight, cannot be pulled shut; they are working overtime to keep images from becoming hazy videos, dreams, casting frightening projections left only up to me to interpret, because, nobody else could possibly understand the thoughts, that I am trying fervently to subdue from action, to rinse, wring and hang up...erased, so as not to be ashamed. If I just bring my black thoughts to gray that would be progress.
***Finally another poem that I'm somewhat satisfied with.
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