We are soothed by the sounds of sleep
get youthinized, get grey matter to leak
unconscious encouragement
mutterings so sweet
Let me bask in the drift
Transit to a spot more hospitable
less hospice
one where tongues flail
against the grain
passing insurmountable grass
that has yet to be grazed
or did you expect a
land unscathed
would you rather be subject
to the sound of white
or the sound of writhe
cry yourself to sleep
til you can't see straight
til you write your final ending
you feel as if your too late