You always look dead when you’re sleeping.

Like a metaphor for burying the deceased,
they cake on powder to burry their creases.

Just pretend sleep keeps the skin salient
like spit balls missing their targets…

I was salivating at this thought
to rehydrate acid tears from
their papers and cough up
crumpled shreds to
shoot myself with
through a straw

because I can’t watch you sleep like this.

I hope he never sleeps like this.

At least let me feel his shallow rhythm against my spine.
At least let me hear his heavy heart-beat sync with mine.

Then I can rest in peace.
And there we will rest in peace.

side note:
This was originally inspired my my grandma sleeping on the couch. Obviously, thoughts progress from there with ideas of tripping on acid because I was reminded of one of my first truly manic sleepless nights:
I had came home from a party in India and my partner had fallen asleep. For some reason I thought he would never wake up if I went to sleep. Every time I looked at him, I thought he was dead. I sat the whole night watching his stomach rise and fall while my mind raced about with delusions that, from what I can remember, had to do with the five elements in ayerveda and TCM, linking with the directionals and a song by MGMT titled “Brian Eno” which I interpreted as “One Brain.” Clearly, I read brian as brain and eno is one backwards…

 

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About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in Addiction, Life and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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