I awake, afloatOn an ink blackredundant seaOf redundancyAnd think, to sinkWould make a rockOf me, a mockeryTo sleep, you seeWould be idealBut it elusivelyExclusivelyEvades meAll fever dreamsAnd inner screamsThe weight that sinksMe, obscures meI lie awake, afloatOn an ink blackRedundant … Continue reading Redundant Sea. A poem.
These sheets and slips Abide with time, Like tides and shores, Old pick up lines. These mountains climbed And sacrificed, To sheets and slips And angst-filled lives; That lost their way, Were found again, In the arms of a wayward, … Continue reading Sheets and Slips. A poem.
What is this morbid fascination I have with the prospect of my own uncertain and certain demise? It reeks of gentle desperation, a perfidious need to know the outcome of a life lived in unconscious and conscious vigilance. No hangman’s … Continue reading This Morbid Fascination. A poem.
Lying here Thinking Thinking Counting … Continue reading Sleeptalking. A poem.
The street cars and sweepers, bird twitters, sidewalk seekers, beyond my pane and pain are my riotous alarm call, a doctor’s silicone grip bidding me to womb’s exit to face gelidity again. Trees shading the low-cut sun, her rays breaking … Continue reading Morning Glory. A poem.
The night is not my friend. I lie here, encapsulated and encumbered in darkness’ vice-like grip. The night is not my friend. I lie awake, turning and tossing, trying to escape my funereal thoughts. The night is not my friend. … Continue reading The Night. A poem.
Nights staring into gloom. A mirror to reason, reflecting all your fallibilities and failing sensibilities. All your new found confidence, blown away like mist, before winds of uncertainty. Your moon is waning tonight. You are a crescent shell, threatening to pitch headlong into the drifting, darkening tide. Best sleep, before you persuade yourself otherwise. As you slowly sink, the ever-present gloom drinks up your half empty cup, all your remaining light, and leaves you bathed in Nights. Continue reading Nights. A poem.
Acquiesce to the night’s probing fingers, an invitation given without betrayal. Shake and stutter in these jealous hills and vales. Writhe in a cave of dream-inspired torment, until dawn awakes the feeble sleeper and time restarts; a clock has no end. Continue reading Acquiesce. A poem.
Close my eyes Sleep the sleep of angels Until l can’t Rude awakening Brought back to life Defibrillated from dreams And held Status update: insomniac Mental tides Washing over tired eyes Why won’t You let Me sleep Damn brain 3:00am meeting with the board Micro managing My many personal investments My kingdom for a hammer To knock me out (In a placid way, of course) So I can ski those dream snow slopes again But no I guess not tonight So many sheep To keep me company 10,20,30,100,1000 Bah I hate sheep, anyway Don’t check Fb Blue light reinforcement Night … Continue reading No Sleep for the Wicked. A poem.
I will forever adore the Haiku and its mystical 5/7/5 syllable structure. Here are three I composed this morning. Continue reading Trois Haiku
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