25 May At Night
I lay awake on the top bunk, listening to my brother’s rhythmic-breathing below me, desperately wishing sleep to overtake me. I wonder if the wormy sparks and swimming flashes of trickery that my eyes pick out of the dark are real. If I look at them from the corner of my eye, at the periphery of dreamscape, I can just make out their teeth.
Photo by russellstreet