My Plague
Should I ever sever this,
outside of my deep sleep?
Am I worthy of this risk,
traversing unclean dreams?
Calm comforts make my quiets,
precious ease signs my pardons.
Reclining on the gentle climates,
in My Plague of partial seasons.
Want tempest twister’s high heat,
rains spill steam over my drainage.
Winds tumble down desire’s dreams,
debris regrets words my pain says.
EaS
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