I have swum laps across the desert.
Now I leave the evidence away.
At midnight, I have sugared something in the house.
I lie awake remembering what is not sweet.
The person closest to my psyche introduced hell
as my destination after saying it did not exist.
"Okay, so sell me the bridge; we'll worry about
contracts after the fact when I feel interested."
When we sleep, we sleep with selves who know our breathing.
No need to measure, for it loves and leaves itself.