Adventura, Poetry, Reader Submissions
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Sleep

I remember when sleep was possible,
closing the door inside my head,
joints unlocking, dead to the world.

I remember when sleep was impossible,
six drinks to make a brick of my head,
tongue dried out, comatose.

Sleep is no longer possible,
words and images leaking out of my ears,
too many bytes, waiting to blue-screen.

 —Shereen Asha Murugayah

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