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Morning serenade an aubade

Hard brittle lights.
Faked without heat.
Screen contrast .glared.
Hurts eyes driving
home words. Finger
sharp pointed pixels.
crack sleep little.
cold and floored

warm glow calls 

 

me giddy and on
gentle pads I secure
myself to a rapture of
rest and a heart beat:
be love
be love
be love

to fall away again
under waxy light
slowly burnishing
my analogue world of
slumbers

shaken by distant call to rest

glare, of harsh blue
white, is softened by
day. heat lifts
and maintains
fight back through
bitter coffee.
digits are soft coloured
and in laundered whisper of
emotional thrill
fortune and dreams
call out softly
"let
us
g
o

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