Platonic Sleep

These words
were never, nor ever
truly mine

tiny words
bleed into my eyes
and rested, with more
complicated words
in my mind

then waking up
still drunk
were recombined
into something
pleasing

to the ear, to the mind
but not,
not ever truly mine

so it must be that I
have woken
or arrived

out of the wrong side
of a bed of tonic
which is a solitude

Most platonic

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