Deep in the night
You’re living your life lonely
Strung out before the dawn
Standing in the lounge
Many shades of night
Exhausted by being awake
More awake than ever necessary
Overcome by the nocturnal
But sleep is somewhere
Temporarily in common with
At an aggressive speed
I was losing my way
I was feeling so alive
Seeing what could never be
The atmosphere burned red
And so I thought of what will be
…from now on
I noticed then what I never see
Chrome slithering roads and bloodied sky
With all moistures weeping in blue
Rolling, cruising, endless
On and over flattening mountains
This is what I’m telling you
Those slow buildings in green
I’ve finally found out what I almost lost
And sensed what I had never seen
All around while dissolving out
Through and into the Firesky!
Behind lowering eyelids;
two dissolving slugs
and two ravenous,
sucking holes, burning,
inviting my skull to push through,
like two useless old bulbs
laying on clumpy, clay soil.
I awake from sensitive sleep. I’m out of tune to the bed-sheet; like magnet
against a magnet, not yet fully formed to be part of this new day.
My right hand is a cutout, a hole; in shape of a hand on the edge of
I attempt to grab for my duvet, but my hand sinks through it; as if softer.
Then, like warm sands engulfing cold, ancestral rock, my hand slowly returns to
me, as I watch it closely re-generate; appreciation of owner-ship is fulfilled,
and it proceeds to move by my own accord; to turn off the irritating alarm!
Every morning, I see a more vivid scene of what’s exactly outside my
window. Somehow projected, it stains itself seamlessly onto the glass,
precisely before I pull the cord; to open my bedroom blinds. The artist is unknown, an
expert in realism, it’s nice, but I really wish they’d move on.
The fact that I have just seen a minuscule leopard; no bigger than my thumb; nonchalantly roaming between the taller blades of grass in my front garden was not as surprising as I would’ve first imagined.
Then I notice a tiny family of three; lying down not so far away from the minuscule leopard; the baby is twice the size of its assumed parents and the Leopard. Somehow I overlook this irregularity in scale and look away, determined to see what else that I can find that defeats logic. Inevitably, they all vanish before I look back on my search for absolute confirmation.
Feeling aggrieved, I sense that I’m being watched — but still I scan the garden; my mannerisms acquire some semblance of pretense loss, as all I see now is scattered autumnal leaves. Within a matter of moments I disregard the miniature marvels; I smile, subtly, as I come to the conclusion that I’m very temporarily insane.
I continue to walk to the gate and plan my route to work as usual.
Sometimes I’m asleep with one eye open,
then I’m awake with both eyes shut.
Some days I just can’t stomach it,
but I get up! So that takes some guts.