Pherox

3 poems written while asleep

Index
1.
evenodd 2. chronos 3. kalep 4. reincarnation 5. oppoopposite 6. 7. Sleep is... 8. what to do.9.tendrone10 Approaching the egg 12 Caut 13 refse

Chronos. Little time Soup deep leper often She said

Radio open upper sculpture Drinking from Puddle lip Kissed on forehead

Clitoris swells crimson

Round orbs nipple standing To bed tubed eyes stretch latch LSD Kamikaze corn rim

sheilt

Sleep is.

Sleep is very sneaky. You just can’t trust it. It creeps up behind you, just when you are least expecting it. You never see sleep unless you watch someone else, but even then that’s not sleep. That’s someone reacting to sleep. Sleep is an insect that crawls into your ear as you lie there with your eyes closed, listening to the hum of the radiators and the drip, drip, drip of the rain on the dirt caked once white window sill outside. Your house can see sleep. It watches you snuggle down and observes (as passive as anything that doesn’t have a tongue can be) as the little black beetle of sleep crawls along the carpet, eating all the dust. It scales the bed as if it were Mount Kilimanjaro or Everest (head coated with the dandruff of the gods). It begins the trek along the blue dessert of your duvet and reaches your ear. In it slips and does its job. Of course, the life cycle of a sleep is very short. In the morning it crumbles into orange granules and its death causes you to wake. That’s where that powder you thought was ear wax comes from. Pay a bit more respect when you poke it out with an index finger. Each tiny spot is a life.

Seems means to be