Wallowing inside the blackest sleep I see images grow large and transform into what feels like reality. Each night my brain is transfixed on tragedy and the loss of a loved one, as though my soul is craving tears, lucid dreaming, a haunted atmosphere. These moments remind my body that is alive, full of breath, a moving corporeal skeleton. The wilderness of my bones hear the dark silted thoughts. Each wave comes with white spinning stars as a granular moon sinks into my spine.