Insomniac trance

Standard

Slender seeming,
deep in dreaming,
a shadow glides
along the polished floor.
A door is let loose
from its hinges.
Twinges of a hateful lust
set your nerves ablaze.
And you breathe in the haze
of another malnourished night.
You bite your tongue on purpose,
and it bleeds profusely.
The moon, loosely shrouded
in wispy clouds,
sends a bottled hymn.
You down the contents
for an easy fix,
but find the taste
to be less than sweet
and even less fulfilling.

-r. miller

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