Some of us have been blessed with the bankruptcy
Of awakening with dust in our eyes.

Not me, for i am hardly human you say.
Does it please you that i am one of the forgotten

Who populates your sleep?
This question becomes refrain…

An endless repetitive snowfall with no boundaries.
Where my pupils reel in a terrain

Only to be recounted
Hours after tea with dead relatives.

Oh, the flotsam of a sugar cube.
Oh, ingenious and discourteous sleep.