||||| a night a gong||decrepit song

Sleeping isn't something I'm a big fan of, but I don't mind it when it gently sways me into a dreamless coma..waking up is another thing I particularly hate, but I'm probably getting used to it after all these years of waking up daily..or not..or perhaps wakefulness doesn't recognize us too well because maybe it's just as groggy, and acknowledging us is the one chore it doesn't look forward to—especially in the morning. 

Here in the shambles of snowy white sheets

in a tangle of limbs and snores we lie. Separated by inches counted in light years

touching barely with tips of fingerprints lest a cold shiver go down a spine

and a spring like recoil, horrific wince

what a wretched day we ended up touching each other

lights out, curtain, no sighing please.

It's an offense to feel (anything)

wrapped in these sheets

sunk in a bed

let the awake one stare

with burning eyes, abrim with hate

and out comes a smile when you wake

a grin plastered

check emotions, keep 'em caged

sweety, you're born to be happy

in this little fencing, look at it properly

under a microscope

Here's a list of don'ts and don'ts

feel free but really don't!

oh promise me you'll have a good day

rest assured it'll be poison before you spot the moon

so, each night's a school

a study of silent mourn

of another day dead

an artists impression

learn how to bedeck a tomb (of your thoughts) 

adorn it with laughter and smiles

appeasement and kisses

fragrant with a please and a sorry

glittering with gratitude and guilt

beginners guide

to sobbing with dried eyes 

in the silent folds of impeccable white sheets.