it's 4:06 a.m and
eleanor has developed an
complex within her stardust confines.
oxygen shimmies, lung
glitter on display,
into the hidden places between her lips.
an owl screeches and
it tears at her inner workings until they
grey rust and breed dichotomy.
anxiety triples beneath
the weight of the moon and
presses on her temples until they collapse.
the world touches her irises
and arches its belly into her memory
until she wakes coherent and pale.
it is 6:04 a.m and
eleanor has developed a taste for the
falsehood within dreams.