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and then I fall asleep.
Wanting someone to call me.
But no one will.
So I just wait for the sun to go to sleep.

Tomorrow is another passage with
three stanzas
One for each class I attend.
Impatiently I will answer questions.

The morning is always nice to me.
Avocados, eggs, and pita bread with cheese.

Symphonies built by digital keyboards.
Randomize a talent Chopin could carry a note to.
Imagine yourself trying to walk with
no sleep.

You feel the light of frame by frame images
whirling by,
and moments occur like relay switches.
Synapsing inside a foibe, a deep Italian chasm where only dead lay.
Because, the images you see are so blurred together that

matter and energy become
A microfibred fenestrae.

Like contact lenses you flush with

when you finally wake.

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The following comments are for "Eyewash"
by xinerama

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