Wait until I'm sleeping, and strike me over the head with a lead pipe. But be careful - Sometimes I pretend I'm sleeping for hours. Because I can see deep into the backs of my eyelids. I can see stars and constellations. They move and become animals. And at this time, I'm visited by angels. And I can see you, too. I can see you with my ears, when you're moving, because I'm listening. And the sounds you make give you form, and you become a constellation too. An angel of death.

So, for the sake of your mission, be sure I'm finally sleeping. If I opened my eyes a second too soon, you would forever lose. Because I would run from you.

You will know I'm sleeping when my eyes are shut and you can stand there watching my little eyelids flutter. But remain very still, right over me, for a few moments and watch me. Watch me carefully. Use your eyes like hands, or lullabies. See how my lower half is tucked and hidden, covered softly. How my hand is folded underneath my soft chin. How harmless and in love. And really get into my mind and let your presence be known, even as I lay sleeping, as I am quick to trust anything that chooses not to run from my dream.

And then take your lead pipe, high. Above the kindest things I've been. And bring it crashing down. Through everything. All that is red, red, red. The color of passion.

And do it out of love, you coward.

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