plutonian shore
I toss in the 3am darkness
my dream fading into thoughts
trying to puzzle out plots
to unwritten stories
that I’ll likely forget
as the sun rises
on responsibility
and my muddling
finds no closure
as another day slips
out of potential
onto the cusp
of past
and future
where existence toys
with folly
like I do
when sleep has fled
and I choose
to rise before the sun
and derail
the dismay
that lurks behind
the whispered curtains
watching me
and waiting
for me to finally
become mad
and listen
to the black bird’s
call
carpe noctem
the wind that
chills me
does not touch
the moon glowed clouds
still against
the autumn stars
mere memories
against a velvet black
painting of all the nights
I said
“wait”
‘cause I could be
the man on the moon
looking down
at pirouetting
dancing worlds
wrapped up in
experience
singing to gods
unknown
until the eastern sky
glows
a poppy orange
and time
breaths a sigh
seizes the day
then lets go
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