You are empty covers,
Your pages torn on thorns
As you melt into a bed
You are afraid of touching
Lest sleep kidnaps you
Before eloping becomes romantic.
Look down at your hands then.
See the creases you worked into
Their gelatin embroidery today.
Will you buy erasers with all those coins?
You don't care to think.
Your body is treason and fire,
And your mind is a building
Built without mortar;
Your stones keep falling
Long after storms fell into them.
Submit yourself to codified rituals now --
Muffle your ears in white rhythms,
Fall back on well-funded pillows,
Watch some dry comedy and
Laugh yourself into believing you have won the day.