For the Ink

Just for a night,
I wish to sleep.
Dreamless, a
Sleep as deep
As gravity, like
A statue; aged
And faded, but
A flicker sparks
Unpredictably.
Just passes by
Unpredictably.

Once I shed all,
I'll wish to be
Cut down and 
Built to be little
Caskets, boxes
For people to 
Keep memories.
Rest of me made
Into simple Paper,
Blank for my Ink.