Damp Chills

The clammy cold feeling of amphetamine shock. Is this how the blitzkrieg-ing troops parading into Paris felt? Eine kleine nachtmuzik. Ya, indeed. I do have a little night music. Serenade my wary sweat-stained personage into euphoric highs and anti-climactic lows.

It’s comforting now,

to sit, damp,

cold, brain-whizzing

away into manic fits.

Then the reality hits.

No sleep for wary eyes.

No waking ever to rise.

With is divine.

Without lacks a shine.

To keep is untrue.

To stop is all blue.

Stay til I fall.

I’ll stand til I crawl.

Forever aflame.

Never to blame.

It’s what works for me now.



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