Mourning, Melatonin!

I saw the first lick of morning

Smear yellow across the sky.

The flourescent flick of dawn

Could make any insomniac cry.

Pulp Gulp

Plan on escaping?

I too, peel

from small chat

Like a balding tangerine.

All ears, Dear 🐌

He eloped my lobes

In a snail-trail of vapour

Echoed in the chamber coil

Waxed shell, my curling crater

I am waning; like a crescent moon

And he’s feigning; like a loon

His words slip in; sticky, for free

He whispers his will -

Sounds like slime to me