Places unnamed, faces blur
coffee so thick, dressed floor swims
mermaid knows what needs
to be met,
not conversation

Quiet can give 
couched restful head thoughts,
back flat all else elevated
poking sky holes ball point pen size 

Eyes already closed 
body drapes bed linen
pillows, with sides of cold
now plate my heavy head 

need to get sated, not sedated

Where ever I am sate,
Ear bones move to vibrate,
to the secret code of songs
pen touches paper,
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;spill ink in
that moment,
calm 
is balm,
fear becomes vapour. 

A poem is born.