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.