January 15

No, the world won’t let you sleep, nor let you know
some allegory, as you have asked the sun-
scribe, the night-writer. No. The world wants it’s cured hide,

hours of sweat, wants the hunt. Power
you request must come in process. You
must tear back the flesh in lines, adjust
blinds, sing the tales you find.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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