sleep
I wish I had known that Not Sleeping is a debt that must be paid, somehow, someway, always.
I wish I had known that Not Sleeping is a debt that must be paid, somehow, someway, always.
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I do. I am thinking of all your voices now. I wish I had paid more attention to how each of you is so different even in your speaking and singing, crying and calling.
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It’s a fine thing to play a ukelele. Small, warm sweetness, and quick success. Feels good.
One of these days your heart will stop and play its final beat
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