i own a bed: that i do...
a bed that could suit two
sleeping in it...

          that i have been
sleeping in a bed that
could allow for two
to sleep in...

           that it could...
no matter...
   the heatwave is nothing
new... a third year...
unlike the first year:
that terrible year...

where i would be woken
by rudely by the heat...
and run into the garden
with nothing
but a laurel leaf for
my: less than affordable
aesthetic additions
of a body...

    drench myself in water
from 头
                to เท้า....
      and find a shade
on the grass and lie in it...
body riddled with...
sandpaper itching...

i can savor...
the joy of abdicating from
sleep in this bed
worth of two sleeping
in it...

       i have found comfort
on the floor...
a hard wooden floor...
   sometimes my folded
arm and my bicep for a pillow...

the bed remains
a maiden voyage for...
   francesca and paolo...
i guess their ghosts...
        who might be bound
to a cooler extract of:
a disinhibited colage of wording...

or some other: mediocre crap...
but to own a bed...
for a worth of two sleeping
in it...
and yet: to preserve one's...
delight... if that...

    to find... more cushions
with the confines of a wooden floor...
and how... the bony exaggerations
can somehow adjust... fold...

   i wonder then...
             which is not much of a wondering...
a bed might be prescribed
for the dying...
                  descartes' res cogitans
might be prescribed for the blind...
or to lepers...
                
      it's sometimes hard to "imagine":
being a "thinking" thing...
when... there are so many avenues
of sensation... a five to the sqrd...
at least...

i own a bed... but in the current heat...
in this little room facing sunrise...
this... chicken-shack...
this car on a sahara of cement...
and a dog strapped within the greenhouse...

i much prefer sleeping on the floor...
how strange...
to sleep... beside a bed that can hold
two cuddling confidants...
and i rather... play the cerberus
council for the petrifications
of the night being: warned off
into the distance of a... welcoming
sunrise... day... life...
and all those privy to the delicacy
of... all inconsequential activities...

the frivolities of: the...
               adjourned... and the...
                    english worded:
carpe diem:
    a...            sojourn in inevitability...
there's the bed...
but i rather sleep on the floor...

clearly... i have owned cats
for "too long"...
as one does...
one sometimes most decisively
desires to...
behave like a dog sometimes...
but not...
like a dog when being sentenced
to... a leash... or a muzzle...
more... a dog...
when... sentenced to an empty
bed...

   i would want to "think"
of myself as a dignified dog...
            a hunting dog...
a hunting dog does not require
a leash or a muzzle...
            even a petted cat:
agitated spine-funk of a would
be regression into a fern...
or some ******* prop-up orchid...

i like the idea of a dog...
being... most certified...
   by... the ghosts that occupy my bed...
and i find more pleasure
on the barren floor...
the folded arm with a bicep for a pillow...

then again: at night...
with not illuminating light
to give my body contorts...
perhaps my shadow has kicked me
from my bed...
after all... i have to entertain
a few moths that clamour into my room...
**** them?
moths?
           "fear" of what?
                              moth larvae?

i testify for the three of us...
the shadow can claim the bed...
i, the body... can own the floor...
and my mind?
    i let "him" dream of soul...
which is... in between me sleeping...
and my shadow...
making this kindergarten of moths
his... star constellation parody.