[Thoughts that strike when you fall asleep, when sleeping is like breaking a clay urn]
Terracotta jugs, sweetie, handle with care-
You fear the mess you have made and what not.
Stacking all that is aware of your dorsal stalk-
You wish no one knows you long to hurt you,
you should sit by and watch moma take your cluttered clatter accident, Timidity at its existence is dread that might break your jar,
And you! will snooze tonight, soundly, robustly.
Passed out children, spot the incongruity
Between you and me with eye bags weeks old-
To nod off- is you throw down the pottery,
there is still a day left, chanting harmoniously.
Nightfall becomes a flitting insect, accelerating the rumination-
Axioms and wars fought only to be lost.
The ballerina's plie: don't lose your spine,
The plunge you were plotting
Seems to have grown taller with your distractions.
Butterbaby- hold onto yours,
Pitfall sneers at the kleenex in my ears,
Did I just assume- the voices will be unheard? When dropped, don't break your leg first-
Baby, because all we do here is run, not looking back.
Can you set the alarm for five in the morning?
I have a great day ahead. -Avishia.