Tangled Fur

Sleep.
The closure of eye lids into an abyss of endless possibilities.
Pupils kicked into hyper speed through the infinite night,
but infinity lasts for less than five hours mostly.
We lie down near double digits and wake up fully into them.

Wake.
Floral duvets dragged over our heads, hidden from the dull daylight.
I always awake before you, like my body senses the movements
of your pouting, cracked lips and grinding teeth.
All is worth the mornings of scraping my fingerprints over your cuticles.

-A.