subconcious pastimes

[fatfreepurses]

in the darkened dead of air
hands holding fast to the coolness of pillow
my face pressed hard into the center.......
eyes closed.. lips pursed...
taking breath after breath
of the mellow.. smell of s l e e p....
it goes unamed.. but not unrecognizable
exposed patches of skin
brush across the crisp surface of slept-in sheets
warm bottoms of feet reach up to greet
billowing white wafts of cotton..
..before gracefully returning to low surfaces
making.. and breaking mountains...
all in the hands of sleepy adepts
bare skin touches that of itself...
..with attempts to leave undisturbed
the eyelids of this peaceful slumberer
that accompanies me in this field of
.....twisted fibers.....
where bodies collide and minds return...
to a state of subconcious bliss
as night continues
and lack of light is welcomed
as we attempt to catch just one more glimpse
of the minds own inventions
adventures carved out of the silence..
..before...
listfullness
is
s n a r e d
from the
dreamer.....
and is
replaced
with
biTter
practical
thought......