i turn you over in
my thoughts like a
piece of sudden poetry.

kick you to the curb
with my barefeet,
like a piece
of sudden paper.

narcolepsy is an art. i am sure of it. my dreams are so much wilder, intense, terrifying. i can't remember them all, they're just fragments of a previous life.

a word worth
clinging to.
not mine.

forever doesn't seem so long these days, i should have said until the end of time. the clocks each have a heartbeat. i want to falter.