Seventeenhour Lovesong

for A.P.C.

i remain awake...

conscious yet not so, walking running crawling
through a haze of sleepsickness
that has never been so joyous.

silver butterflies flash in front of my eyes
but i don't mind.

i wrapped myself in you without pause to breathe
for XVII hours

i am dehydrated, my throat hollers
for water, my hips snap irritably --
"lie down, go to sleep."

you are better than caffeine.

sleeping entangled on a palace of cloudcushions
lies a young man with a face like Blake's angels
and a lithe golden death;
i can feel their smiles though i cannot see them.

sated, satiated, whole and now complete.
honeywarm glow throw my own veins

the world spins, my feet rock, throwing me towards sleep --
well, if all present insist...

I will sleep and I will dream of
all these infernal favourites:
a silver panther
a sentient program
a blue guitar
a captivating addiction

but most of all, I will dream of you.

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