Insomnia

poetry by Valerie Fox
visuals by Lala Abaddon

 

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But lately, we are all afraid
to call upon one another
unless the meeting has been pre-arranged.

Must mean someone’s personal
Dark Age is looming across
the countryside,
heading toward the cities,
dragging blood and bone.

What did Dali paint
when he couldn’t sleep?

I must’ve been drunk or invisible
when I used to know facts,
like that.