home

slits in the head cavity have cranked open once more. their gears, rusted. the low rumbling current of air streaming in and out reaches the ears before the black brightens to yellow. am i breathing? signals strike pots and pans through the groggy hallways of gray matter. the steak in the chest conducts a fresh staccato rhythm. Ropes in the neck leverage side to side, and the small bone house slams open its door. a gasp erupts. fresh air. The taffy slab lurches forward and meets an ocean. Had the home’s seal leaked all night? 

____

i’ve been sleeping hard. Sleeping soundly enough to wake up with the deepest nose breath that immediately induces a hefty dose of concern for my oxygen levels and a still viscous puddle of drool that’s splashed as far as the cheekbone. I didn’t know I could breathe as slow as I have been in twilight state. Slumber must be safe lately. Dreams have revisited our friendship — even staying for late night glasses of red. I think i’ve gotten them too drunk, however. Those evenings end a bit edgy; poking and prodding at my fears only to hip check me awake just in time to feel peace in the horror. Upright and awake, I wonder if it should all be as the dream scripted.