three blind mice

the sands of time erode my brain.
only sleep could provide the necessary lubricant
to prevent all that corrosion.
no use.
i hear the mice crawling in the walls.
they must sleep better than i do
to be so active and animated
and hungry and self-preserving.
i could never kill a mouse.
but it doesn’t seem to be a bother
to kill a little piece of me
day by day.

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