Sleep is like a cat- it only comes when you ignore it.
Realisations hit me like raindrops, splashing,
a spatter on the windowpanes as the storm
goes on lowering, nebulous and bellicose.
I am unformed, I am broken. Maybe hopeful.
I am gnarled tree bark, two hundred years old,
but I wear the skin of a child and my eyes sink
into my face; yellowing light, thunder inside.
