Confusion comes coiled within the margins,
filament cracks dare to shed light.
Let our eyes flicker, cracks become caverns,
the blades of a fan, blistering night.

Yet Morpheus dulls,
washes away the commotion.
It is not real,
just a forgotten emotion.

Who would believe what I share with the dark,
when the colours of memory turn it to bleach?
One moment an ocean—now a granite spark,
This is my life, a desert beach.

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