To the dusty floor of your head.

It's musty in there and the air smells

Like something long dead.



Of waking on a sunny morning

With the warmth from the window

Wafting across your feather bed.

Kiss your love good morning

As you sit up

And breathe

And life courses through you

And you feel the warm vibrations

And the subtle fluctuations

In your veins.



And then your body breaks

From the pressure

Of the image in your head.


Until your body wakes,

Rusty, tired, and underfed.

The End

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