Rehab LIII.2: seven
i miss you again
i feel the deepest, emptiest sleepiness. i'm cold and my shirt smells weird.
I want very much to curl up in bed and sleep....sleep, sleep, sleep, until i'm out of college with a degree obtained by sleepwalking, and somehow i'll wake up in canada and there you'll be, by my bed, your forehead wrinkled so wonderfully worried....
maybe if your fingers touched my temples i would feel insta-calm, like a shaman. you'd be my shard of quartz, the gemstones placed around me to channel out all the tension and negative energy.
you'd rearrange my chakra and my chi
and i'd be nothing but harmony
harmony and you
i have a little apocalypse each morning and a renaissance each night and in the middle I'm an infant hidden in a tiny papoose in your shirt, waiting for you to teach me, to show me, to love me.
perhaps i'm inside your boywomb
which is a tentative term for you but if you think of what i mean it won't offend you
birth me again as something beautiful.
i feel the deepest, emptiest sleepiness. i'm cold and my shirt smells weird.
I want very much to curl up in bed and sleep....sleep, sleep, sleep, until i'm out of college with a degree obtained by sleepwalking, and somehow i'll wake up in canada and there you'll be, by my bed, your forehead wrinkled so wonderfully worried....
maybe if your fingers touched my temples i would feel insta-calm, like a shaman. you'd be my shard of quartz, the gemstones placed around me to channel out all the tension and negative energy.
you'd rearrange my chakra and my chi
and i'd be nothing but harmony
harmony and you
i have a little apocalypse each morning and a renaissance each night and in the middle I'm an infant hidden in a tiny papoose in your shirt, waiting for you to teach me, to show me, to love me.
perhaps i'm inside your boywomb
which is a tentative term for you but if you think of what i mean it won't offend you
birth me again as something beautiful.