It is the day after the day when winter came, thought the
cold arrived earlier, a stranger in the night after having lived through a
mostly mild Fall, this day after the day with the longest night, and I wonder
at the dreams I have, if I got less from this day than what I dreamed the day
before, waking erected, having imagined something that never happened when I sincerely
wish it had, what we embrace in dreams eludes our conscious minds, feeling the
need, drawn to it like a desperately thirsty man to a well, where we drink
until we drown and this does nothing to make us less thirsty or less erect, we
still wake craving.
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