Sunday, March 29, 2009


New sleeps with reminiscent sounds that frighten me.
Alone again with my thoughts as New thinks that He is awake.
I should already have a hobby in times like these.
Old used to tell me to sleep too.
Only tired of being alone I seek the affection of the one who shares quirks now kisses are perks,
He'd rather me than work, but I am still scared.
Scarred by Old and wanting New to rub cocoa butter on it,
gently to make the pain go away.

Tell me I'm not buggin.

Too emotional for casualties,
this just ain't me.
Carpel tunnel forces ending but thoughts are just beginning.

While New had
The Itis


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

sleep is only a step in to a room with no walls
sleep is only a court with every possibility and no ball
fall or no fall sleep is inevitable
sleep is the chemical that makes our food for thought edible
sugar on vegetable
its melts our minds and drips them in to stencils
mold them in to emotions of the mental
it will rejuvenate and recuperate
radiate and illuminate
opaque, pallid, distinctively lavished colors that manage to swallow our dreams
sleep writes the book with closed seams
engraved with utlra violet beams
and every soul that screams as a team
to redeem the malfunction of being awake
to quake the earth with bad decisions and rake the lawn of the good vision
make life incisions with precisions
for everyone to listen...

sleep is to feel .. and it shall be done after a meal...