I could never count stars 
  as they were always shooting 
point-blank at my forehead...

Hollow point dream killers,
   my eyes open pools of despair..

                       The night shone, 
within the white pools,
   non-reflective reproductions of 

desperation..

Every sheep that jumped over
 that 
       hedge...


Face hugging the granite of my 
                dried up lake of sweet dreams..

I'm still awake....