It feels so deep,

enchanted sleep.

A haunting spirit.

Eyes to weep.

With trembling hand

stretched forth to feel,

yet nothing felt.

Five hearts of steel.

Creep closer, closer,

closing in.

In staggered breath

as night begins.

Where mystic songs

will have their way.

Hypnotic rhythm,

come what may.

No presence here.

No ties abound.

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There's a yellow sheet I see creases imperfect 

Although I'm not perfect 

The creases are a defect 

It's a continuous cycle of the creases being straightened

Rather relocated and it's making me restless agitated 

To tame one's impulses I zone into a trance.. I choose one crease and it's almost as if I'm shrinking...

The fold in the blanket becomes a corner 

I hear vo...

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