this needle tells me
bed time stories
and the pillow
is swelling my comfort
with this liquid caramel
slipping under my covers,
touching me here
in the crook of my arm,
a seduction leading
to kisses and fingers
between these thighs
between my eyes
 
tear washed boy toys
collapse violent sandcastles
as i watch
the mad hatter
play solitaire on my bed,
in my head,
ring around the rosie
lullabies putting me to sleep,
keeping me awake,
taking my holiday in Paris
without ever leaving home
 
i see my hollow
reflection in the mirror,
and it makes me giggle,
so i paint my ghosts
with joker smiles
and freedom guiles,
i am drooling,
i am schooling
the children
i will never have
in the art of dying
with a monkey on your back