Weary heads lined along a room of beds, carrying dull sighs and agonizing ailments
Scattered carts of medicine and nurses in gowns, in an attempt to save the damned.
One soft word filled the crammed room,
Rest
The time when an individual finally gains the opportunity to heal.
The emotional scars, the physical ailment, and the feeling they’ve forgotten.
All bottled up in the carbonated beverage of our consciousness.
Fizzling like stamped out sparklers on the 4th of July.
Yielding ourselves to the rest of our experiences at the end of
Sleep
