Sleep, dear human
young flesh, older dust of stars dark, open wounds and glimmering scars. a plexus of eccentricities normalized with words, breaths escaping, counting backwards- You, dear human; the shallow of your cheek, the depth of your deep, collapse tonight in a listless sleep. catch your breath, as you fall in your head, when you’re alive in the body, while in sleep you’re dead. Continue reading Sleep, dear human