P.E.R.L.

Thieving daylight stole my sleep, purloined the dust and bones of dreams, conjoined with sinking cold and deep, unleashed repellent buck shot beams. A light that beat on life condensed, lashed by the croak of turncoat tongues, smashed grief in fragments thus dispensed, congestion of the tar pit lungs. In sorry womb beneath the sheets, breathed the brimstone of the night, bereaved and clutching in the pleats, adrift in seas of grey and white. And pencil shafts prised at the cracks, blind and grilling this and that, find pupil equal, to light reacts, or glazed, dilated and utterly flat. This loving thing is sometimes grim, infused with barbs of what might be, confused, not knowing this of she, how her eyes react when seeing me?