Alien, you remain a mystery to me.
You carve upon my retinas with your ideas,
your friendless habits abduct my days.
You phrase my nightmares and phase through
my eyelashes, lasting a dawn with nothing more than
gibbous eyelids, over-ambitious? No. My heart is not nutritious,
fixing this isn't by contributing to the addiction, inflicting
absence as a base to what I do; how I think. Why are
you always at the edge of when I
blink?
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