I need to go on sabbatical,
a pilgrimage to find myself.
My soul, my heart
have gone missing.
Posting "Lost" signs everywhere
in poems and prose...
and silence.
I've exhausted the in-between,
the merged time of alert and asleep.
I'm tired of the obscured,
brought on by Bacchus.
To drink, to dream
to slip away...
A coward's folly.
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