into the blurry eyed dream, you smile, longing
catching with an angry hook and your lungs press away
the air it has never needed.
the curved sea of thoughts sleeping in the
corner-press and fold away
maybe, it won't bother you ever again.
there are moments you are somebody
else. you were plath, you were
bush, you were a homeless
shit, it makes you humble.
feel the earth sleep under your palm.