Into the abyss of sleep, I lay down. Ached back, feeling bloated, a rock in my pocket. Blind folded, I can still see, with gloves in my hands I can still touch. My mouth is taped, I can still scream. With thorns in my heart, I can still love. Into the surface of the earth's scent, I walk. Full bodied, thoughts in a torn paper. The rock is now a feather.