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  • Fabergé Warland-Edge

The Sleeper's Debt


The world is so lonely 

when no one is awake 


Me and the window

And the words I leave

On the sill, 

Hoping the wind will 

sneak in and sneak out


The midnight burglary

Of all my confessions 


The emotions only the

Mirror can see and 

Only the moon can hear,

Anything to feel witnessed

With no witnesses 


The pillow that reads

“Here lies…”

And the duvet that 

I tuck like a tomb

Around my body 


The formation of a 

Blanket cave, 

Swallowing my

Being into some 

Sweaty chrysalis 

Of sleepy viscous

Goo, awaiting 

A restful eclosion

That never comes


The sudden twist

In those pre-dream

Scenarios, where 

The darkness of 

The room seeps

Through the thin

Skin of my eyelids


The interpretive dance

On my dilapidated

Mattress before I

Reach the final stage

And sit up like some 

Resuscitated mummy,

Somnambulant without

The somn 


I return to my window,

Listening to the robins 

And the wrens rise

With the dawn and

Respond to my restless 

Rambles 


The inky pockets beneath

My sockets grows with

My sleeper’s debt 

Then comes the tragedy

Of the mistimed kiss

Between the opening 

Of the blinds and the 

Closing of my eyes.


A new night is born 

With the yawn of my 

Awakening, some crazed

Creature is itching to

Escape under this moon,

To howl to someone

Who can hear it…


God, the world is so lonely

When no one is awake.


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