witches and poets

three o’clock
in the morning
is for
whispering secrets
and fervent prayers
clutching
the pillow tightly
while murmuring
i love you
into the
synthetic blend
for witches and
lonely poets
seeking deals
with the devil
to make their
dreams come true

the air is thick
with sleepy
declarations amidst
tornadic twisting
an underpinning of
fevered desire
assures no sleep
will disturb this
torturous tomb of
aches and longing
i slice my wrists
with dreamshards
and see your smile
in the kaleidoscopic
arterial spray

it is too
early for coffee
to give up on
one more nap
it is too
late to do anything
but stare at
the ceiling and
wait for the sparrows
witches and poets
as the church bells
peal a solemn three
notes among the
symphony of sirens
electronic cicadas
performing the
accompaniment to
my insomnial dissertation
on loving you

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