Before Bed  by Preacher John - 7/12/99

There are nights of ineffable and unnatural beauty
Even in the A and M of the dog days of December
When a night borne westerly boils orange cloud accross the lurid sky
Like smoke
Like steam
Rolling and bleeding away
Like the fall in the sugar of my blood
The drop off of my heart beat
The collapse of my will and my mind
Into broken fatigue and incoherence

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