written by: C.R. Daugherty
I stay up late,
far into the twilight hours of life,
when my real friends have long since
gone to bed
and my imaginary ones
come out to play.
I receive from them affirmation
that perhaps I would do well at some other
things I normally don’t do.
I hear that the economy is not so great
and the weather is even worse.
Have you heard
of the one
how evolution is corruption,
when language evolves,
regresses and recessively confesses
that dreams are made
Once again, perhaps we may
succeed at winning each other over
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