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Renee Babin Apr 2013
The creak of my bones,

rubbing in disagreement to my

stretching, hoping for relief while

thoughts of murky water mold and

pull apart like  a bowl of warm soup

Relief of a multitude of sorts, my

mind and body

bickering as an old married couple would,

stuck together to the very end

and yet disagreeing on

how much I should sleep

Words begin to have no meaning,

only becoming a soft mumbling of

utter nonsense that should be perfectly clear

like that pond of murky water

It drowns me in hopeless longing

for clarity, a decent night's rest

and relief.

— The End —