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.
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…