Under A Gibbous Moon, I Wept
As the palm trees waved to and fro, blocking the night stars I lay at their feet in -
I awoke sweating, gasping at the first glass of water. Knocking it down, it left me coughing fiercely, which handily covered the sound of the wind stopping. When I drew breath it exhaled in a cloud of mist and dissipated slowly. Only then did I hear the silence. Opening my eyes gingerly I peeked out into the hallway at the emptiness which rushed up to meet me. Wretched am I. Alone. All alone I thought. So I turned on -
I awoke in a meadow redolent with the scent of lilacs. Butterflies fell out of the sky, dying from a fine pesticide mist that dissipated slowly. Only then did I laugh. Snowflakes of insects fluttered down quietly, covering everything in sight. Twirling around, I knocked down the huge -
I awoke on the steps of a typical Icelandic home. Svetla welcomed my headless corpse with open arms. Cameras flashed. Relatives cried. Children sang nursery rhymes in the yard till dawn came. Throwing away my hats, sunglasses and nasal spray -
I awoke to the sound of a Punic harp. The Aeolian winds howled faintly outside, reminding me of the eye I was keeping on young Simon. I could use it back about now -
I awoke naked on a rooftop, and under a gibbous moon, I wept.
