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Insomnia

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I lie flat on my back,

Staring at the starless ceiling

My back

Denting the soft mattress beneath my shoulder blades where my wings sprout

But how is it possible to dream

Because whenever I allow myself the position to relax-

My heart begins to race,

My breath shortens,

My brain starts an arbitrary commotion

My gut shrinks and folds,

flips and churns…



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