365 Days · Poetry

95 – Papyrophobia

I was so wrapped up in it that
A dream became a nightmare
All versions of the feeling you get
When you don’t want to be near
Anyone or any kind of thing
Your skin is crawling and you
Want to shrink out of your body
The sogginess is turning your
Love to hate at an alarming rate
Six and seven all boil down to eight
Even the anticipation of waking
Doesn’t end the sleeping torment
And that’s only one thing about me
Amongst a shamble of complexities
The touch of a wet paper towel
Is all kinds of everlasting hell

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