Sleeping with a hanger inside of my brain – and she is sleeping with the rest of these bed-notched somebody’s – heavenly attired yet wide awake at being decidedly unreal again
Feel that brain, say my unpardonable name, please, I am so very undeniably sorry, that it is not working its way out anymore
Recall it all, when the next great pretender snuck deeper, sleeper inside us all – nobody’s paltry party so much so soon as I choose these delirious demons with stars atop guiltily guided and disguised nonstop eyesight
Why can we not be this, that, every which way again, baby?
I will take your very own brain and tie it near the end of my bedside … a little looser this time, if and when you gently press your ambushed lips inescapably against … the farthermost reaches of my living, seething, vitriolic antiquity
Now, please… get ready, get steady-faced, gently get set… and all by your naked self