There's a feeling behind my eyes
when I've written all day, an
ache
I would exchange for no
pleasure.
My brain is tired. I don't
remember
what I ate, if I ate at all,
forgetfulness,
I would exchange for no
pleasure.
Words from my mind ran my
fingers,
flowed onto the screen, into my
bones.
I fight the clock, the phone for this pleasure..
There's a feeling behind my eyes
when I've written all day, an
ache
I would exchange for no
pleasure.
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