Parties

Social circles cruise
past the lonely left-behinds,
at least they saw fun.

If I Sleep

If I sleep
I breathe ancient dust
onto crystal targets
mounted on my lips.
The dust drips from its soul-cell
coating my chin and throat
then attacking all movement,
shattering streams of light,
raining them to the floor,
learching the room towards total night.

If I sleep
I drown in visceral hourglasses,
counting chromatic kisses
sabotaged in suffocated adventures.

If I could only wake,
rip open the windows,
kicking through the panes if needed,
I could clean this weighted room,
swimming back to some unstuck melody,
free from breathing my dream-dust.

But if I sleep,
I stay asleep until the breathing is done.