Thursday, February 3, 2011

SLEEP.

Lashes link together
intent on finding stormy weather.
Behold, I have no life jacket for you
for forecasted wild winds.
Everything sucks in darkness
and yourself is in it.
When did you realise this?
You didn't.
That was when you told me that moths
had china plates for wings.
All the eggshells were exploding.
This is too much, too much
for non-ficition facts.
This is too much, too much for me.
Climbing to pick lightbulbs off branches
you fell into deep trenches.
JOLT.
AWAKE.

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