metro-bought tick-tock taps
my brain or is it a ghost
in bed - still - stained
slumber old dry thick
blue sheets beneath me shift
the sounds of cars outside
crashing perhaps and coughing
even within since air cycles on
no matter how altered my lungs
starve for the heavy stuff
damn addiction, benediction:

if i could sleep
i might dream

(*smash the clock*
fantasy)

but would i awaken

on time

stagnant pillow talk (tic)
fucking mental tic (talk)
under my lids light
dancing through obscurity,
obliquity, obsequy.