Effervescent ravine,
silky chaos,
found flowing beneath the soundless sun of Sirius.
Yearning For Bed: A Free-Style Poem
My eyelids are cold, they itch with sleep.
How they long to meet each other for the night.
Brief meetings are nice,
But long periods of togetherness are sweeter.
Eyelids are like lovers,
Brushing against one another, yearning for bed.
