My bed is full of ashes
ghosts and fingers that creep
like vines.
I, limbless
perambulate
the contours of a dream
that approaches
a nightmare.
I am home and horizontal.
My bed is full of ashes
ghosts and fingers that creep
like vines.
I, limbless
perambulate
the contours of a dream
that approaches
a nightmare.
I am home and horizontal.