Member Poem

Wherever you lay your bed, they will find
you. They will deny you, yet hold you close. 
They will repress you but grant your sweetest 
memory. They will be every flashback,
every tear in your lip, every shiver
that buries you deeper into your sheets
and into their chests. Wherever you lay
your bed, they will teach you to tangle the
fear into comfort, the disquiet to
relief, the aging to the innocence
that brought you here. They will lead you to the
chasm of repetition. They will be
your chanting, your chorus, your encore. And
how you will gratify. Wherever you 
lay your bed, your will invite them. You whose
proof of living satisfies the motives 
against you. Whose proof is transition through
affectation. Whose proof is the act of
waking up. Wherever you lay your bed, 
you will invite them. They dominate you,
yet you desire their disturbia. They
abort your ego while you ask for
another. They direct your dreams to the
beaten path, and you awake to fatigue
for the vital forgetting. Wherever 
you lay your bed, power will go to the
strongest grip. You are human afflicted
by waking and reverie, by slips of
control for your subconscious, by the break
for paralysis, sleep spindles, and the
loss of time till sunup. Wherever you
lay your bed, reality is power. 
And luckily for you, you were never
a leader. You find ease in governance.
You rely on cyclicity and the
balance of calm and upset. Wherever
you lay your bed, they will come with one arm
outstretched and the other over their chests.
You will receive them in the same for an
embrace with hearts protected and backs bare
for the peril of laying down into 
the drift towards satiety and seizure.