Number 22

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder how long is far!
Has your light be stolen or what,
Whilst my eyelids down they shut?

Tinkle, crinkle, little star,
Shake that dust off your scars,
Have they ever, ever yelled at you,
"Who am I talking to?!"

Whittle, sprinkle, little star,
Sow the pledges of a racing car,
Of a marriage that finally ends,
Of a show that never commences.

Tremble, brittle, little star,
Don't fall now, stay where you are,
It's your light I cannot bear,
All my skin of you is aware.

Now pause your whims, little star
I swear, this time
I'll pause mine,
And to this night again
I'll sleep just fine.








Asperse

Raising from the poolside, a Ulysses’ temptation in frizzy hair, he started sprinkling chlorine water to him, an invitation that he refused by crouching himself on the beach chair – William would have returned at any moment.