There’s more
than what I’ve meant to do,
things I’ve never thought of,
from the pictures I’ve never seen.
You’re in the whispers
of the brilliant,
sleeping without their eyes
while someone else
keeps fighting it.
Tossing and turning
as the break hits
and they roll over,
falling to the floor.
We all love the disguise,
the point
when we can picture it
and the hint of memory
just flashes by
while the haze of sleep
so slowly fades away.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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