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Underslept and Overthought

I light cigarettes from hobs
on sleepless nights of poetry
viewing "I" in third person
looks like "T" from top corners
of box-lit smoke-filled rooms

clink glass on glass, reach for
the short straws and smile
uneasily to a room of no-one
grab handfuls of hair, become
educated, decide not to go to bed.
Written by Annanias (Jon Z)
Published
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