as the night's veil wraps
around my eyes, i fall in love
with an unconscious stream.
figmants of beauties ill never meet.
midsummer dreams.
consciouness, in all its guises,
lays me down, and rings me out.
each night im reminded of purity.
envied innocence.
i trip in routine, down three hundred fourteen steps.
suntinged sill, let me slumber.
duality, my masterful doppleganger
rationale, let my wounds bake,
these scars never stung so much.
healed, and long ago sealed.
dusty, tucked, and infinitly folded, this child made from paper, wants to be crumpled again.
© 2011 cloy pi. All rights reserved.