A leaf slowly danced his way onto my laps and the stars fall out of place
in just that way
whenever I’m in bed. The shape of my state is blue; ready for your
autopsy of questions, ready to be tried once again. I am barely home
now but my eyes are dimming - flashes of white roses and purple
bracelets spill all over.
I just will not fall asleep. I won’t give myself that
satisfaction. Not even now that I deserve it. Time pulls on your face
and chest and loins,
but only if you’d ask nicely and agree to fade in wait.
I am always found groaning of
wanting cake and never getting any,
squatting in my good boy corner. The only place I am at peace with
myself, where I can agree with all that I have to say to myself.