In my sleep, the world fell apart

in little pieces, dropping to my

pillow. There, I saw, the racing

stars melt the mist stained,

frozen sky. There, I heard, a man

tell of his little girl— with tiny, soft

hands that clung to his neck like fruit.

It was then that I was exiled

with a faultless friend—and there,

in my soul, awoke a terror of the end.