sleep that is not really sleep but half-lidded existence
and again, indifference that tightens
like summer clothes on a winter body.

pillowed flesh that never cares and
a greasy face who stares dully at
its twin who is a stranger.

angry, angry for a moment and
tears, rips, sobs
then desolate, desolate for a moment and

sleeps, sleeps, sleeps.

sliding into a hollow place where it is dry
and the rain is outside and it trickles to that
solitary holding cell where pliant curves are a thousand miles away.

desperate, desperate for a moment and
whisper, utter, scream
then lonely for a moment

nothing, nothing, nothing