tired after screaming all night long
peace around the bend
as sleep exercises its slow trend
they used up their reflexes
in crude unnecessary antics
and now when the time matters
there is no energy to get frantic
and now life calls for its fatal sacrifice
it's always there; it's grip like vice.
But now their energy is gone
and they revel in perpetual suppositions of a temporary dawn
knowing that the blight of the new days light
will only lambast their sleep dimmed eyes.
And they will dream lies
until the next party at sundown arrives.
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