Sleep-Spoken Prayers

Don't die on me tonight in the hush of coated slumber, inert and unguarded in your form's rest, for this rocky road still extends onward.

I can fold like the flower I am amid the forces hurling against me...oh so easily I can snap...threatening to uproot my feeble roots, just like you.

Smoke, silence, solitude, scared.

We are lost, my brother and I, lost like my father in his purgatory wanderings...only we have not yet given over in the face of doom.

Our lips move in our restless nights of widescreen dreams that pain us sure as reality, maybe more so for our lack of defenses in our fetal-shaped slumber disattachment.

Don't ask explanations of us; others can't know inside workings and few can help us, nor can the rare ones that stretch out for us understand our vaporous hugs.

We are brothers locked in pain.

We are hurt, and sliding, and clinging tight to the lonely coldness inside...a void which presents the uncertainty of every upcoming day,

awakening our new fresh mistakes,

amid our hapless progression through empty waste.

This is the only way we know to proceed, the only direction we follow, on a path beyond you, or us, or this, or done or that which is undone; we pray for one another silently.