Every night I vow a good book downed.
At least a few pages of one.
Most of the time I end up behind
Something black, a cyclops with glowing
Glaring eyes that let me peek into worlds.
Tonight is no exception, and my fingers
Tap into worlds hoping to return
To mine having given and taken, of
The same token, what from my world would
Prove to be otherworldly in another.
But one more eye on the wall reminds me
That worlds are best left discovered
After a good sack-hittin'.
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