carson-sleeper

November 24, 2024

The sleeper, real and dear, is carved on the dark.

Minerals of sleep are travelling into him.

Travelling out of him.

Signal leps in his wrist.

Caught to me, caught to my nerve.

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Thought:

“I confess I meant to grow wings and lose my mind. I confess that I’ve forgotten what for.”

Alice Notley

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