somewhere between six forty-five and quarter to seven poetry lack of sleep hit the fan things that fade then re-awake and keep you from that glorious state of who am i where am i why on earth did you decide to wake me? Share this: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...