Creeping

Red veins lay
like rivers and streams
on the whites of my eyes,
winding their lazy way
across small earths of white.
They twist and twitch,
I rub and itch- night
comes creeping
ever steady, and they
cannot fight it.






Me and my crazy sleep patterns.
C'est la vie.

Chase

I am sleeping with wolves;
they love me and my heartbeat,
how it runs and leaps
and trips, faltering
with fear. They love
to bark and bite
at my ankles, imagining
how I could run
from them.







I will understand this later, which is slightly annoying because I want to understand it now but my subconcious doesn't cooperate with me.
Anyways, I really need to go to sleep.