«·wakeless sleep #11 · to saint bartholomew’s wife·»
she liked to tell stories
about drowning fireflies.
he liked to kiss rotting
skulls on the mouth.
only women’s skulls;
he wasn’t weird
or anything.
she wasn’t tired enough
so thought, “what’s the
most boring thing
i can think of?”
he put her to sleep.
you see,
she had a vivid imagination.
