sleep drips from the foliage.

i slept next to your nightmare 

in the bed where we smoked the hash

feeling all the feelings put on hold.             ‘they’re not threatening, anymore.’

you said about the dream catchers, the crow’s skull interrupting my frequency.

i put my foot down, felt the floorboards, reminded myself of time.

drank the jar, swallowed you whole, there wasn’t much to say.

i trembled around the room, struggling with jewellery,

tripping on my active imagination. thinking back, three weeks ago, i came

with an extra heart beat.             //            left with a smoothie in my hand.

i walk through the trees, she sits with a cigarette,

asks me if i’m okay. for some reason i’m a part of her family now,

i’m struggling with all the things i care about.

in the kitchen you told me of our past lives, i was so happy to listen.

when i woke up in the supermarket, the milks were singing cruelly

and the day seemed preemptively dark.

i learnt the words off by heart and bought a bag of spinach.

the song carried me home, my feet limp in the air, the trees joined in the chorus-

night time waits for no one.

from one bed to the next my hands shake along, counting all your concerns.

the figs were split and dried, the tree was heavy and indifferent.

he came in drunk and hugged the dog and lay

facing the wall                                               i was crunching biscuits

between my teeth and looking

for an excuse to stay. i ran back and forth, in my mind’s eye, between our conversation

and reality. out of breath i collapsed on the grassy hill

of my imagination and i imagined

us sleeping side by side. 

our ankles touching. 

in the morning blue and grey, clammy sheets over sweaty limbs,

climbing out to find myself and standing tall in the mirror.

a lifetime of night time, the dream catchers release us, if only for a day.

i walk along, carrying books, trying

to come back. i'd like to go back there soon.