Tossing and turning.
Unlearning abusive systems and relearning loving skills.
Becoming a dream keeper as a rebellious angel child anything is possible.
So I am very soulfully strong and heart-meltingly adorable.
I provide nightmares for my worst enemies.
And sweet dreams for my dearest friends.
Anyone in the middle is going to live with their political aspirations.

You whisper to me so elegantly
As you kiss my forehead
My head on your chest
Falling asleep
To the rhythm of your heartbeat
"Sweet dreams, my darling..."

As our heavy heads hit the pillow
We each drift into our own state
Of unconsciousness

* * *

4,728 miles from each other
Time zones which feel as if
We are light years apart
You are falling asleep,
As I am wide awake;
Daydreaming

The only thing that you can say
Through the electric current is:

"I will see you in my dreams, my darling..."

Dreams end
when eyes open
to watch streams of light
coming through the window
               and the heat is only starting.

through the midday
we forget what dream it was
that kept the smile in deep sleep
the rising temperature gets to head
             and we realise we are too hopeful.

Simply by night
exhausted our thoughts
fighting sleep to have nutrition
to get back on the bed, have a sweet dream
            wishing not to wake up, dream to no end.

I think everyone dies
I truly do
Every time they close their eyes
They remain motionless for hours
Until they are revived

Do you disagree?
Clearly you do
Care to show me your proof
So that it may sway me
To a more accepted pasture


"Well what of their vitality?"
"They still move and shiver"
"And they breathe as if alive"
"Surely if something died"
"Their movement would cease"

Yes, their heart beats, and yes, they awaken
But I truly think they, themselves, leave

Why do I arrive at this?
You mean how,
Through a simple observation
I suppose it, at least, to me
It began like this:

When blackest blanket with yellow dots encircled
The sky and the heavens above
I found myself watched and groped by the air
For someone was watching me
When nobody was there.

Dear Azi, I'm full of broken thoughts.
My insides are like a box of matches.
The moisture from my sorrow, wont allow combustion.

I get up every morning with a tourniquet in my hand,
seeking the self in the vestibule of my childhood.
Your caveats no longer reach me.
But, the sweet carousel of your laughter still does.

Each loss is a new vulnerability.
A subscript, for a long past bludgeon.
The only whisper that still holds,
is the one that tells of your past love for me.