What woke me was unknown and hallow.
Like a hushed wind not so hushed
On a calm night
Not so calm.
My sleep was hazy,
a blurry dreamt up euphoria,
like glazed over eyes staring into nothingness.
Which mine did that night
glazed like frosted over lakes,
never seeing peace over a crowded winter.
And when my eyes did close,
REM was etched into my lids
weird happinesses dancing in my picture frames.
Cut short by the shadow of a figure
shadowed on the outline of my penciled inner eye lid.
Eyes wide open now, Im sure I would sat.
My ass etched into my mattress.
A foreign print till morning.
So I would have seen the icy frost that seeped
under my covers
and felt it cake against my skin.
Filling my pores with granite.
I think I remember his “eyes” against mine.
Orbs that stared but never saw.
Maybe I felt his lips on mine, blue and cracked,
to match my own.
Though my own do not contain such glinting incisors
perhaps I thought.
Did I make note of those incisors,
that glinted in imaginary moonlight?
Make note of sharp feel my flesh tasted a clamped down?
That sleepy feeling that creeps upon me now, as did then?
Or did I wash away those memories?
Wash aways the blood, wash away the tears, wash away the tainted taste
but I shall never wash away the scar.
Weird Happinessess 