Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Recoil ★★

Sleep is an uneasy thing
He dreams in muted colors
When he sleeps at all
A world unwinding in garbled images
Dripping from his stems
Flooding his roots
Feelings adrift between the taste
Of liquor
Of kisses
Of blood
Like copper coils and wishing pennies
His veins digging into the earth
Draining into the soil
He winds himself
As he twists in the sheets
Wrapping himself in his cords
Tearing himself apart

No comments:

Post a Comment