grateful to the grave
       I plank right out
my bed a cross pounded
foundation of maul emotion
fast out kipping
not in keeping
a widowing and not a kingdom
              milling out gawping
a fish mug
              tourists chugging at the gallows
dread heaves ugging repulsions
          my sleep is a gagging panic

livers of the hours
   the minutes are a live toil
     difficult digestions
       the sour beat n' breath
a particle flecked arena

   this slumber is harmful charge
(a battery matter)
capable of a faulty
              reversal of surge
depleting sleep
          not a springtime emergence
   ejected from the unconscious

         : a drained agent
reduced and submissive for duty

I spot a Spider in the sandpit
abdomen like a gooseberry
     and the colour
          gooseberry green

tastes like regular Spider

combed cotton clouds
a light wind tackles
withering humidity