esra sarioglu

 

nights grow

with melancholic overtones

before we slip into sleep

pangs of mortality

hit my body

 

 

while I am sleeping

my mind’s eye is open

watching the thoughts

fears and wishes

roll around like black marbles

 

 

with my back

against the heater

I revise my dissertation

a warm way

to meet the critical deadline

 

 

on my scale of one to ten

numbers in between

are largely missing

 

 

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