braindead beating heart,
blinking thought and sleep
universe in floating
deep above what commonplace
people call tired–

think not of
screaming.
(undesire is flower)
for just the moment
understand me:
a coma where period should be.

lost in fluttering
senselessness of song,
you can’t realize anything
but human misinteraction
and lack thereof.

settle spinning,
(organize)
this life is once only
afflicted from the
get-well-soon-ness of bed.
you might as well think:

we have all the time in forever
to procrastinate once we’re dead.