At least tomorrow I can sleep,
ignore the rapid fury of open eyes rasping my presence.
An induced darkness I furrow out of downward jaws
that eat me, sink me.
No consequence in my sleep,
wrong or right;
limitless behaviour orders me to this cushioned kingdom,
where sometimes I wish to stay when your face is my bounty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this one a lot, Anthony. Keep writing. Raynette