friday mornings like tiny holes drilled in my head
empty spaces breathe in and out, widen and tighten
thoughts float in rough spun ether, their ends withered
/
my persona stands outside of itself, tethered but fluent
/
lately I lie awake and my mind swims through rivers
ever flowing, they take me through hypnagogic landscapes
entire worlds to distract from the whistling of my shivers
/
some days I simply am not here
and still dread cloaks me, despair
even burrows itself in my skin
pulling so hard I may become bare
de-rendering 
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