Falling Asleep


It is a dark night of soul
laced with the movement
of soft shadows, wind,
moonlight streaming through tears,
where branches scrape the hollows.

It is a deep night of soul
dank with the smell of
white and black
the shimmer of resonant
voices against the dream.

It is the sleep of sorrows
drawing me near the depths
the steep draught, hopeless
impersonating death,
infinite in finality.

It is a bright day of soul
a dawn of illusion, a
whisper of kindness
drawn out under a breath
a wink, a kiss.

It is better here if I lay
in grief and observe the
subtle nuisances of stupidity
as it grips and scours
my scorched soul.

Why did, how could, for what would
I lay such a burden as this upon you?

I should not, but have.