I am stranded between the coffee table
and the rave,
extending their electrons above their bobbing heads,
forming light yellow halos, flickering.
From no bite of cold can I extract the poison,
the sour flakes drill deep beneath my pores.
They breach my bones, and
I can no longer remember the sensation of warmth.
My previous perfect nights, I pledge
from here on out until the eventual great thaw.
I've been selfish as it is, and abused my luck
thoroughly enough;
Twisted with hope that someone out there also feels
this being unable to dream peacefully.
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