Walls
Askilter

Sounds
Linger

Voices
Whisper

Lights
Flicker

Mi­ce
Skitter

Snakes
Slither

And somewhere
Nearby

A monster lurks.

Dear monster underneath my bed,
You scare me
Even though you're dead.

And though a lurking ghost you be,
My horrid monster
You scare me.

there is no cure quite like for the dour
than clean pyjamas post-long-hot-shower.
with a sigh and a hug and flannel kisses to yer ***
hot shower/clean pyjamas: for when a day is done.

today
i crawled over in my grave
safely
and that's
okay
with my way
because lately
your name tastes vague
and untasty
like a grave or rotten pastries
it's okay
i'm still gay
i still taste the
same
but i crave
a new name
like
like
lately
I'm hasty
a bit hazy
still insanely
calling your name
like my frame had a replay button
did you say somethin?
you refrain woman
you think your game is playing
you obtain nothin
but i gain something
a new brain function
a new name for it
I'd be down on the floor
but i'll sustain from it
and you'll regain a substance
one made out of gunk
a replayed nothing
I just learned from it
i learned some girls are worth
more than my brain numbeth
but that brain cometh with a new plan
like like
tonight i'll burn you down
and every memory of loving you
i'll breathe flames from it
and burn my way from it
i prayed all day
because the brave plummet and we're worth more than
relationship frumps we're higher than
down
in the dumps
i trust nothing i'm stumped
i'm still frowning
i'm dumped
you know not of this chump
goodnight now that i'm done
you'll now run from it
please run from it
i'd spell it all out
but her letters thumb crumb summits
it's a plum turned into a prune
sweet but unripe
gum
unchewed but alright
come at night and sleep
sleep like you
sleep like
sleep
with me like we
sleep
like only we sleep

Give me rest.
The kind of slumber
that toddlers protest during naptime
but succumb to with a stream of drool
on their rested faces;
the kind of slumber
that enables my grandmother
to nap in a rocking chair
with a book teetering on the edge of her lap,
the sort of sleep
that wakes me up
an hour before the morning trumpets blast;

give me that,

because I'm tired
of the sheets clutching on to me
like handcuffs
engraved on criminal wrists.

I move across the cold floor
feet shushing on the wood
trying not to wake
the man in the warm bed
I lift the edge
of the blanket
gingerly slide in
tucking my feet
up
into
the place
that warms me

Angels flock to clouds so soft
keeping watch upon your soul
there they sit in the skies aloft
living life your only goal.
can you see what is in front of you?
Those eyes of yours so crystal blue.
an angel watches over you for endless time.
its music playing from a windless chime.
but as you know.
Even angels need to sleep.
So don’t worry.
so take that entrancing leap
eyes go blurry
now angel, you too can fall asleep.