This shall have to happen
These sheep with wings slept upon are counting me – upside-hellish-down, indeed
We need to breathe upright asides rightly improper, lie with simply me
I’ve been dreaming these age-old sequences at REM will
break-neck speed, mysteriously still half-hearted, albeit no less about to start
Come
The Lucratively Suggestive
A.M. Turn
Of
A
Most fruitful tide
Wide-eyed, rapturously aware as to this particularly peculiar, seriously unjust insomnia swarmed, warmed atop
ridiculously, quite deceitfully prepared to work its ludicrously multi-coloured sock off
Soft to the silken-dreamed touch of fontified, fair fortified Us
Seems to be that Yes, the silenced lust is just enough
For now at least – a creatively bespoke bubble-speeched feast
floating mind-togglingly overhead amidst the prone to be sleep-induced famine of constantly alert mine
I will always find the time

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