i do what sounds good
and i think i think too much
so i simply ignore
my head screaming from
the end of the precipice

i've probably seen god
in between the clouds
under astroturf
and between bits
of gravel
scuffed loose from
my impatient feet

this dullness is blissful;
this woollen blanket
that drapes over my eyelids
so hard it compresses
my eyelashes
mouth smothered
by the sheer weight
of it all
lungs pleasantly depressed
head pressed to the side
and breathing steady.