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I have trouble sleeping which I’m told is common for people like me. I keep a journal but its mostly pictures I can share with you sometime maybe. Sometimes I write poems in the middle of the night when i’m thinking about things I regret or if I left stuff out in the kitchen because I get ants.
Can not breathe.
I guess I could sleep some.
Will the trees give me away?
They used to be my friends.
Hush whisper don’t speak.
The trees are listening.
I have things in my eyes that burn.
Sparks. Screams. Custard.
And then nothing.
I know it’s probably not as good as people who poets for a living but I do this when i’m trying to remove stains or at work. I really like how it makes me feel. I hope you like it too. Crackers!