The conclusion is nigh:
Poetry > Sleep.
Can Smells have warmth?
Am I allowed to blend sensation?
I sit here and, yes,
Sniff the blanket that my grandmother gave me,
And it smells like her cozy abode,
Endowed by mystical hide and seek memories.
I feel okay
I feel… Good.
Do you need to know?
…I want to say.
That’s all.
I hope you find warm smells too.
I hope you know I hope for you.
In fact,
The last time I smelled the air outside,
My memories,
Oh God,
shared a lung,
And for a moment, I saw past the trees,
To the melody in the span of my song,
To the jelly in the spread of my toast
To the pod in the love of my peas