something awful about slumber. something wonderful.
how I wake with sludge inbetween my eyelashes. stuck there. as if I never showered. as if my eyes are pie crusts, waiting to be eaten. or worse. tossed in the trash cuz no one wants that part. prefers the filling. as long as it’s not apple. I hate apple pie eyes.
how I dream terrible thoughts about his wife. about how he touches me with the authority of those muddy fingertips. and then he does. wakes me with it. turns me over and lifts me up. enters my dreams and leaves.
vulnerable in sleep. passive. receptive.
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