when you sleep the sleep
of the dead, the world does not
exist. The weeks days lose their
own count, and tomorrows never come
to those who wait. Breathe Breathe child,
said avatar; his thick accent sweeping
the words around in his throat
like a broom, grey eyes far away
from the todays lesson. Wake Wake
child, avatar said; the wrinkles
climbing his forehead like a ladder
smiling in a way that was meant to
say somedays really are worth living.
