3:57
odd time
to be a-
wake.

I lay slowly,
adrifting away-

awake.

the Insomniac beat... yes it
benches and bangs,
an anvil god's trinkets and toys
bring pain-

much pain. oh!- you-

Aphrodite-

Queen of Misery. What must I say-
for I am in your mercy.
Foulest trickery ImparTs your anger,
sharp daggers, the candor of mute stranglers
descend upon and anchor roughly tonight
here inside.

I tear-
I tear-
I am torn.

what more than a minute I have spent in Guilt,
becomes hours,
perhaps years,
I know not,
I can not,

perhaps---amend?

For words of yours breath life to mine
And take life from me

as -well.