Continuing, Of Being

I’ve noticed, maybe not as
Fast as it should’ve hit, it’s
Sitting, still as the keypad
After the blink, thinking of
Word counts shouting out
Loud, about how hard you
Have to tap, again into the
Beautiful light of oblivion
Living like the night skies
Beneath my starry types
Hiding, near anonymously
Sleeping, deep, keeping its
Sights set to sunrise, while
Running still, in that dream

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