Hypnos by Joel House
Read by Conner Arnold
“When every man is torn apart. With nightmares and with dreams”
Poppies, caress my eyes; a gift of sleep:
Begrudgingly I swipe my eyes seeing my love has accepted soft petals.
I work like the Smith and I am several bolts behind
Done; the White Bull is sated another day; Sleep is now a friend.
An Ivory Gate euphoric illusion.
The horn pieces and bellows, “Your work has yet to be done!”
Need is for sleep, want is for amber eyes to decipher signs and additions.
Poppies joined with tendril thorns constricting sense and thought.
Whit Crescent cloak drops and beams of blinding arrows releasing from these barbs,
state of blissful slumber gone; and the work is done.
If only I could see poppies and dream again
