Bed Time Short Stories

Bed Time Short Stories

So often the light
traces
the last big crevice
still visible
on the ceiling

Aloft, the mind
implodes
into the tiniest fraction
of mapped
memory
eschewing
thick globs of blood
adrift

The air
permeable
to soil & water
gathers
thin layers of dust
as walls
deteriorate

The outside glues
to the window -
its vertical volume
filling the inside

The room is
a structure inviting
thoughts on the 
landscape -
a condensed object we're able to
touch & imagine
real

The eyes lurk
hiding behind color &
dream

The mouth tastes
until flavor becomes formless

The skin breathes

Soon
it will be dawn
anew.