deepundergroundpoetry.com

Bootless Winks

My dreams now come reluctantly
and disincline to stay,
as if an exorbitant fee
was keeping them away.

It seems that fee is misery,
as so often it will be,
kind of like a dysentery...
  suffered subconsciously.

I would, If could, track down the source
of muse abandonment;
it's like I woke into divorce,
and sterile settlement...

all too, too much like death itself,
or likewise piss-poor sleep,
cursed by a hypnopompic elf...
who won't let slumber keep!
Written by MidnightSonneteer
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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