Or something like that…

Ode to sleeping pills

and the disappearance of the ego

into the mouths of angels,

in gelatinous, glittering mouthfuls;

Each piece of light,

a memory

an image

as elaborate as a dew-drop

a mirror

a moment

the world trapped in it,

 sliding down

into the angels golden belly

with a happy hum.


I upstairs,

listen only,

to the sound,

that only

electricity makes

as it

bathes the darkness

in false light.


2 thoughts on “Or something like that…

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