• my complexion is doused
    but not from tire of your unconscious weight in my arms

    TAP...
    ...
    ...
    TAP...
    ...
    ...
    ...


    your hair drips a harsh
    but natural colour of cardinal red

    i press my face into it
    hoping to find a sweeter scent in bitterness

    TAP...


    if you wake you'll tell me your dreams
    how the pain morphed them to ultimate surrealism

    if you rest longer i'll tell you again
    how dreams can be just as surreal without this

    i'll piece you back together with stitches of treasury
    so that tomorrow when you wrench them back out with uncanny anger

    you'll remember a little less of the night before
    and forget a little more of tomorrow