the sweat cools
where the body overheats
in sudden wakefulness
within the dead of night

no sounds but the heavy breathing
of a startled form beneath the covers
momentarily dazed, unaware of the surroundings
in which it finds itself

eyes shut, it all comes back again
those lucid pictures, vivid sounds
where insects crawl beneath the skin
and one drowns on land

the fault was singular, of course,
a suicide in a fake landscape
a poor show of emotion
where no one may judge

quite often it would happen
in painless reality
where red stains white and
black beats blue