by Niamh Doolan
Deafening imaginary noise
sheets are too hot
something so simple but achievable
man sitting on the wall again
sheet s are too cold
what does he want?
Paranoia rising, reality or dream
have to sleep to dream?
Envy the comatose wrong I suppose
something so small promises to achieve the impossible,
hope in effervescence
prey to a god of somnolence
wait for the inevitable arrival of nothing
