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the sleep comes at a languid pace,
the constellation of sleep-ing not quite skybound.
you feel your arms reaching for distant images,
outside, there are barking dogs running free and far away;
the silence on their leave is deafening.
soon colorful dream-of-night sets on it's course,
navigating and cruising upon the waters of nocturnal inebriation.
you bend your arms down and dip your curled fingers in the cool waters;
the horizons uncharted and your entire being
breaking upon the wind.
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