02:20 boy

Day Burns down to night. Burns the edge of my soul. In the night, I break into sparks of suns and become fires in a dust of bones. Night knives my breath swallows whole my tongue, turned back, reversed, returned. In the night i see the real concealed in the days bright lie. Eyes stitched shut, white teeth smile. Sleep walks and talks and feet mark time of day to the drumless beat.

Nick's poem.