Sleep

My eyelids buckle under the weight of impending sleep
They strain under the weariness of the day
They resist the day's feeling of malaise
But are soon buried under sand
The victim of a childish prank
Time occupies a cheap seat in this warped space
Dali lived here
Jung was at play
The weight of the day grows lighter
The body too is slowly feathered and unfettered
Altitude
I'm smaller now
My body's a tomb
I'm held afloat
A diver in a cavernous body
No reason to wriggle or shift my weight
No discomforting fingers from a blanket's touch
No soft electricity from another's touch
I'm snug in this hollow space
I'll stay here for awhile
Til morning knocks