Rest less in my room.

Sometimes in my room, alone, at night, the Tempests keep me from sleeping.
Brain. Storm. No shelter.

Stirring up meanings, reasons, questions and possibilities - to a heartbeat soundtrack.
Scrabble tiles anagram ABLE ONE and BE ALONE, and the Magic 8-Ball toy message reads: What were you thinking?

There is the Impressionistic empty wallet! The Expressionistic hand seeking embrace!
A Cubist mirror of splintered angles, and of course the Surrealist's brick wall.

All the kings horses and all the king's men with no map to the Land of Nod.

The street light outside - persistent!

Tesla-coil thoughts, sizzle the arms of Morpheus.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on,
and our little life, is rounded with a sleep.
- William Shakespeare


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