sleeping with chaos

eyes like droopy hound dogs, all sad
and seeking companionship,
so we prop them open with
toothpicks, sharp wooden splinters,
and pray for the dissonance, muscles
crying out, “invasion! invasion! let us
declare war on the enemy!”
and we fight wide open, unable
to blink in even the blinding light.

oh, mother! oh, father!
oh, hurdy gurdy man!
this is such pure pleasure!

the whites bubble and sear,
like delicious fried eggs, while
pupils dilate and contract, kaleidoscopic,
insane with color and texture.

“wake up!”
the razorblades scream as they score
us into slices; we fall limp
in post-ejaculatory bliss.

his mission unaccomplished,
the alarm commits suicide, a noose
to silence the sound, and we do not
hear from him again . . .

tomorrow morning sneaks in quietly.