these sheets keep me
s l e e p l e s s
and this stench of
rain dried up on old walls,
peeling,
and the cold that digs through three blankets
a sweatshirt
my s k i n
to the bones (!)
as if i were:
sick.
not that i'm not:
(sick)-
i can't claim so, my
subjectivity here is at stake
it's not as if i've slept lots, lately, to explain
such sudden stolen-sleep;
not nervous negativity
which widens waking wars.
no, i don't know, never
claimed to be so-
but crazy, perhaps,
you think through this snow.
i take such thoughts as yours,
artistically inept as i may be,
create a mosaic of broken sentences, misplaced
fragments, sew at the
seams something seemingly smoldering, steaming with
sunshine and brimming with pure cocoa, bubbling in
boiling water, something
sweet or this midnight (post-midnight mind,
mind you, may you let my corrections of honesty
split our oceans and walk through a
red-sanded ground) craving,
it's keeping me
sleepless and i've a long day which before me lies, i've
work for the eyes, i've
got to keep my mind in sight!
plain, doors shut, music
turns of, lights
(camera, action) off.
off.
awfully strange i remember
intensely your splendor,
your dialect, tonality, our
duality, clearly i remember
and we were cold it was
windy with each day you
were young you were someone new
you believed we were true
you were:
t a l e n t .
i, rotting slowly, thinking
fastly, i,
watching from the sideline
building a fantasy i was your
anchor but rejected such
responsibility i was
your muse, and you
frightened me!
such thoughts shouldn't be
but they were and we
dreamed to be free in our chains
in the sand in the presence of water we
dreamed to be one with
the essence the blessings the wrongs of our fathers kept
us
sleepless on such cold nights, i bring you
full circle, you are there-
wherever "there" may be
and i- here, trying hopelessly
to find sleep, define:
rest. would you know to do so,
were i to ask you to?
s l e e p l e s s
and this stench of
rain dried up on old walls,
peeling,
and the cold that digs through three blankets
a sweatshirt
my s k i n
to the bones (!)
as if i were:
sick.
not that i'm not:
(sick)-
i can't claim so, my
subjectivity here is at stake
it's not as if i've slept lots, lately, to explain
such sudden stolen-sleep;
not nervous negativity
which widens waking wars.
no, i don't know, never
claimed to be so-
but crazy, perhaps,
you think through this snow.
i take such thoughts as yours,
artistically inept as i may be,
create a mosaic of broken sentences, misplaced
fragments, sew at the
seams something seemingly smoldering, steaming with
sunshine and brimming with pure cocoa, bubbling in
boiling water, something
sweet or this midnight (post-midnight mind,
mind you, may you let my corrections of honesty
split our oceans and walk through a
red-sanded ground) craving,
it's keeping me
sleepless and i've a long day which before me lies, i've
work for the eyes, i've
got to keep my mind in sight!
plain, doors shut, music
turns of, lights
(camera, action) off.
off.
awfully strange i remember
intensely your splendor,
your dialect, tonality, our
duality, clearly i remember
and we were cold it was
windy with each day you
were young you were someone new
you believed we were true
you were:
t a l e n t .
i, rotting slowly, thinking
fastly, i,
watching from the sideline
building a fantasy i was your
anchor but rejected such
responsibility i was
your muse, and you
frightened me!
such thoughts shouldn't be
but they were and we
dreamed to be free in our chains
in the sand in the presence of water we
dreamed to be one with
the essence the blessings the wrongs of our fathers kept
us
sleepless on such cold nights, i bring you
full circle, you are there-
wherever "there" may be
and i- here, trying hopelessly
to find sleep, define:
rest. would you know to do so,
were i to ask you to?
