The People's Republic of Sleep

did it mutter a sound faintly heard
or could they feel this bleeding
like these filthy little teeth sinking underneath
as all our pretty edges turn to rust
and bringing out the worst in us
the few that could see
its blackened wings spread across the miles
to cast out the sun
bury it down
in a hole and far away
just like my head is
and staring empty at this thing that sticks me
I can hear the saints they beckon me
longing for the night
through the bathroom floor and past the gates of sleep
my brothers await in dream
they will come and they will take me
and ever I will leave this place
behind
give rest this loneliness
unto us the ones that know that
there's something rotten in southwest Michigan
and shaking in the company of whispers
we long for the night