which have felt.

the night sleepily in white dressing gown
up


and grinning


with the **** sliver of its moon a bit
wide luminous and softly(                        .

a dream that teeters
briefly with infinite stupid self

I) the ridiculous me
that with five fingers says some wan curling;

there is a fan blowing, i can just hear it vaguely

stooping
its rapid cheeks somewhere; silverly.

And) can anyone describe
why laying is pleasant when dying is to lay forever?

(i think
and i don't
and it's so cold outside winter the trees are creaking but inside it's so warm i pull the covers over my head and begin some divine fantasy of girls.   .      .

Unfeeling girls