Sleep loss, a poem of exhaust, (350/365)

Exhausted
Space for new works
Trying fix old works
Lying on the bed
Contemplating rest
Because time
Seems to be
Not your friend
When you have all these ideas
Percolating in your head
Trying to make 5 seconds
A ten minute rest
Because time is too precious
To spend it all in bed
And again
I remind myself
That sleep lost
Is not always a loss
It just depends
On what coming out
Sweet dreams
Or sweet success

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