Listening,
to the droning,
lullaby, of a,
heathen's speech.

Tuning his billowed, whistled,
preachy, presence out.

I mimic,
the closing lids,
of Tutankhamen's,
shutting eyes.

I turn over,
now, under.

Pyramids,
and, pharaohs,
dance by the Nile,
underneath, my feet.

Fluting, willowed kisses,
sweeten, desert drought.

Soaring. I'm attempting,
to catch,
stomach entombed,
butterflies.

I fall slower,
from unfound, slumber.

Crashing.
Into, a sarcophagus,
of, unforgiving dreams,
and, bequeathed unsleep.

Spooning, pillowed rivers,
and, streams, of, unweathered doubt.

© poormansdreams