SLEEP IN DOLL GENTS

Awoken, suddenly.

Suffocating.

Vehement hostility, confined, define, corrosive conception. It’s too early.

That dream, that force, that bedevilling… flatulence.

A deluge of lonesome nostalgia, forthcoming.

Inexpungible.

He lay.

They lay. Speaking in multitudes, impassively.

Nonchalant, by mannerism.

Adoration, not merely to appease.

Carnivorous, perhaps.

Equated by existence.

Awoken… again.

Confused. Soliloquising – fictitiously, and some.

Broken.

He lay.