your sleeps are like deaths. you become a shell, and you leave me there alone. while you twist and turn in the intracacies of sleep, taken entirely from me by unconscious callings.
i wait and watch.


when you come back to me by inches, you leave behind half of who we were before our ink night lifted.


we come back to life, gasping with inhibitions, brought face to face as we have been with our souls, our ghosts, our own blacknesses. brightness seeps into us as the ball in the sky flies above mountains. glitterati sparks skim-dance a starburst trail across the wet sheet of ocean.


and we apply tense reconstruction to the unsteady republic of you&i.