Treasure Island

L C Vieira

(Lisbon, Portugal)

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Three Thirty Nine A.M.

Three thirty-nine a.m.
A growing madness drowns the quiet,
heat humming through the vents,
the cold night mocking its attempt,
and I awake, still awake,
pound my pen to you.

Where does my practiced peace go in the night,
and all that contentment you talk about?

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