relearning how to sleep alone
everything's still as in
my nightcap photo album
except that all has lost its value.
lights off. dull pain.
something terrible is going to happen.
awake: it's happened already.
you are calling me,
submerge me in your living fragrance.
awake: the bed is cold and empty.
I hold your pillow.
you cut the straps that held a piano,
I visit the hospital all over again.
awake: dr faustus (p. 55) & st. augustine (untouched)
on your bedside table.
glad the cats are with me.
awake: half my pillow is wet.
awake: sanity check.
kitchen. garden. coffee. cigarette.
back in black