You awoke when the morning was still grey. You knew nothing of where you were and everything of where you needed to go. The rays blazed through a white washed window, breath on the glass of an un-slept dew. Today smelt more stale then yesterday, more apt to choke on words that failed to rise with the daybreak of a wicked moon. Rising to meet me, your body stiff and un-rested but relentlessly eager. The distance felt further as your body came closer. A kiss. My cheek stung by lips swollen and raw from an incestuous display of perverting conversation, tinted red as the hate discharge from a breath full of distaste.
"Did you Sleep?"
Why you ask is an inquisition more unanswerable then your initial inquiry. If sleep were defined as a bulldozed calamity into an exit-less tunnel that arrives at your destiny, then yes, I slept. The walls laugh in conjunction to the black fly they choose to be. Humoured and anxious, their inapt ability to suffocate a room that fails to find light... Fails to find life.
"Yes, I Slept."
Jes Busch
No comments:
Post a Comment