Across Worlds
It is that which has plagued me sincelessly-
By the breaths which have come forth from my self, and then by, it is rest which refuses me while the night reigns without, as it does within.
And for it I have given up all sense, all rationale, all rhyme and all familiarity. I cannot understand it, as it understands me, and before it I am left helpless, shameless, empty.
As light sears that which is me and is without me, intoxicating my being, unpeaceing me within, so the fatigue comes, and it overwhelms, and, as I was before so now, for it once more, I am helpless.
Yet as the light fades and I am in comfort, and my thoughts bent on the rest sorely and desperately needed, as even then I will my eyes away and all sight turns its back on me, that which empowers my degenerated heart is let loose as if a tide defiant, unwilling to turn at my will, and I am in awe, I am alive, and I hate myself for it.
For as the night falls, my self is given being, and my thoughts race across worlds.
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