without much doubt I know I feel
a wetness of sleep; anchored to the
continent where dimensions merges yet
also divorces — like some dreams are the
inner folded paper origamic settlings of a brain neither too real to be confused neither too real to be really you for you are not the sap of a dream. There are sleep like vines caressing a canopy of old hearty non-beached coconut yet a viridian inhabitant of some coastal cliff or some city alcove bursts with colours that vintage gloss envies to a fit. Nightmare sunsets goblet red pythons a cloud palpitated and makes you fear that too gleams like an iron form mars or a diamond wedged between a market fancy or a war currency. Watts of a quartered fused body where each organ becomes a metropolis jointed with others. Eaxh intangible arc floating past str
eams and deluges. Sleep comes to remind of the bounty we see and cannot see in life and the lifeafter…with the dusk of days and immortality of something beyond the corporeal. Sleep….and…

Speak yer mind

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