Invasion

This bleak

This rotten starry black

exploding beneath my closed eyelids

A dance of death; a brush with heaven

One more visit with the Other Side.

I can't sleep.

Fingers roll deeply into make-up greased grooves

and can barely make out the old typography of my face

I rise

with touseled hair tied into knots

from endless hours battling with my pillow

Dead-bone moon peeps into my window.

I close the shade;

I don't much like the invasion.