therestlessrhythm

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Rorschach

Rorschach waves, crashing out of sleep
    and I’m forced to look hard into the asymmetry of my pillows.
Two realities tethered to the center of my bed,
    I’m confused in the night, cautious in the light.
Two moons in a row on the cold cotton totem, awake in the wash of shapes,
    black against black.