the sleepers

taste the crumbling earth, the rich soil of this land, as I claw it up with craze-cracked
nails and grasp it in my hands

see, my fingers turn to roots

burying deep into the dark depths, tracing out the paths of worms and bugs and all
else who came before me. the fungi whisper their secrets and I breathe easier

the soft sharp scent of living decay that fills my lungs, lulling me to slumber in this
underground earthen oasis where bugs crawl and worms whisper,

telling tales of those who dug themselves too deep

and now are stirring in their sleep…