the time of the world is in the eyes of a cat.

my dreams chase me when i wake up, at my heels, scrambling for a crack. my grandmother taught me that was how ghosts entered the body. it was important to always wash them clean and make sure they never get too dry.

they say a cat likes you if it slow blinks looking at you. when i slow blink back at a cat, i fall asleep. and then i mumble meows.

the language people who talk in their sleep talk in is the language i want to learn. you'll hear mother tongue phonetics, mixed with unashamed english, with a hint of the irish accent if you loved derry girls.

i wake up everyday to go about the rotation we call a day, and i crawl home to find a bed that loves me and a dream that could save me. before i wake up and do it all again.

what are zoomies man, your cat just wants to play. tire them out and they'll be fine.

it's hard to sleep when you're not tired. it's hard to sleep when you're not tired.

the time of the world is in the eyes of a cat.

do you see how they move? how the world stays still while they follow prey? how every breath falls over the silence?

even as you wait to pounce, do your eyes stay on the prize? if you could tell the time, what would you say?