• p.n.c

11:24 pm

the last time i held this book,

there was blood all over my jaded palms

every inch of vivacity i had left told me to close it and withdraw

my senses, they itched,

“perhaps just one more page before i fall into a slumber”

except gathering it in my hands

meant

pouring salt on the wounds

that hadn’t yet healed

with my blistered hands

I held this book again

perhaps this time

i’ll be vigorously sufficient

to put it down

p.n.c.


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