This poem was originally three stanzas long. Twenty-four lines in total. I realised, a few minutes after writing if how mnay words I’d wasted, how much ink and paper I’d taken up just to try and say what I wanted to say, when in the end, just the eight lines, the best of the original twenty four, were all I needed.

Daydreaming in ink
no less real
than the synapses
that create the haze
of sex and sensation.
Send our fantasies into the ether
to return to later.


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