Self-Portrait

Sunday

Sleeping Beauty doesn't even come close.

I can't remember how to sleep, I can't remember how to wake up.
All I remember is how to float in the ether of the distant memory of a dream...

Ethereal seclusion.
My hands are tied with ribbon woven from the wings of a moth - we frazzle in the ether eternally, as the moon sings us the lie of a lullaby.

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