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I should really stop
Writing poetry at 1:43
and fantasizing about pouring alcohol in my coffee
And fantasizing about making love to you
and fantasizing.

I should really stop
Spending too long online
and going to sleep 2 hours before my family wakes
and going to sleep (just to wake up a few hours later)
and not sleeping

I should really stop
reading Cummings late
and pouring over Byron late
and pouring over Burns late
and late night poetry readings

I should really stop
listening to death cab sleepy
and listening to brand new sleepy
and listening to la dispute sleepy
And listening to perfect lyrics sleepy

I should really stop
dreaming about love
and dreaming about those who don't love me
And dreaming about those who might love me
And dreaming about you loving me

I should really stop
but I cant seem to stop
any of it
 Jul 2014 - insert name here -
k
I am in love with you in the way that
you are my insomnia at 4 in the morning,
the one keeping me awake because my
body doesn't remember how to fall asleep without
yours quietly curled around it,
and my brain doesn't understand
why I irrevocably hate you,
or how I can hate and love one person
so much it makes my stomach hurt,
every moment I'm not with you I think
that the distance might **** me
because the sleepless nights and empty beds
breeding incomprehensible hatred
are just because I am
so
*******
in love with you.
with no concept of right or wrong,
i will do what feels right to me
and you make me feel all right.
prayer
is the coins to buy bread
and it is upto the shopkeeper
to giv us without.

prayer
is the school going child
to get cognizance by opening the books
and sometimes without them too.

prayer
covers the distance
between heaven and earth.

prayer
makes God happy
and removes His wrath upon us.
I've got one golden thumb
that's worthless,
heavy at high fives

and two corkscrew eyes,
that role around like dice
when I lie.

A heart shaped nose
that I use to seal envelopes
instead of a kiss

and cotton ball lips
soaked with sweat
from your fingertips

My ant farm abdomen,
consuming to the beat
of bodies and waste

Legs with feet, feather up
thickly, like smoke
coming in at first place.
Just random and silly images that I needed to imagine and illustrate.

— The End —