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The red roses have closed
Their buds and said good night
And only my mind speed is awake.
The night sky heckles me
With its spotted illuminating stars
And intoxicating blackness as if to say
I dare you to fall asleep
With all of this beauty above you.
I am vertical now. They say
To get up if you can’t sleep
And read, but the words drag
In my mind in unsteady circles.
I am immune to books at this
Thieving hour. Maybe I’ll
Count pigs instead of sheep.
