awake_and_dreaming raze saw_the_moon_last_night it was made of honey full of dormant endospores saw_the_moon_last_night it was made of honey and it only made me love you more i was learning how to carve a pattern in the skin that hid your vertebrae tracing fiction with my fingers thinking it might make you stay but i was never meant to hold you though i thought that's what these arms were for thought of all the ways i could have touched you while the ocean kissed the ragged shore in that space between awake and dreaming where colour spirals into black that's the place i'm waiting for you i just can't seem to find you yet saw_the_moon_last_night it was made of honey the amber face that i adore lighting up the twisted city but it won't shine on me anymore 121231 ... ovenbird Is my soul asleep? Have those beehives that work in the night stopped? And the water- wheel of thought, is it going around now, cups empty, carrying only shadows? No, my soul is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its eyes wide open far-off things, and listens at the shores of the great silence -Antonio Machado *** I can’t be sure if I’ve slept a single moment in this life. Vigilance grips my shoulder, gives a sharp shake. Rasps, “did you hear that?” My mind can find nightmares in the darkness of a blink. I have been so many things inside of this waking dream, every one of them lonely. My ears ring from all the silence. My eyes are nocturnal creatures pupils flung wide skilled gatherers of light flaming brighter_than_the_deepest_dark 250703 what's it to you? who go blather from