Interrupted

I pour into the narrow hole of sleep
where bees coat the hive of follicles.

Flakes of skin encrust in waxy dust,
smear on the paper like pollen,

germinate into words, write a
script, take a note of every action

till  my body becomes a book
that no one can cleave away –

mine until the flesh burns, that’s when
lines written here crackle

explode and hiss in fire, quicken line
break to leave me mid sentence

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