I may fall asleep lying in the sofa
in a hot summertime—
from winter to summertime—
just like a can of soda
inside waiting to pop out—
inside wanting to burst out.
I am awake a few hours before i sleep
with eyes down-low till it close—
with my eyes becomes Chinese eyes till it close—
just like a broom that sweep
but not all dirt are swept—
but not all filthy floors are swept.
After my long sleep, I'll awake
like i never fell asleep—
like i was awake not asleep—
just like love wanting to take
the life i have—
the unknown life i have.
