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In this world you're
either the writer
or the reader;
the creator or
the receiver.

And school never worked
out too-well
for me.
It was a random idea that I thought I should jot down. Enjoy.
Fill me up
Top me off
I just can't get enough

Give me the needle
I'm in a situation, medical
I just can't get enough of this chemical

It'll play with you
Make you believe
Make you see
Skies of blue

Take you away
Bask in the sun
Up on plateau
Feeling found fun

When the feeling is gone
And there's not enough
Need a new source
Well that's tough

The chemical killing me
Has left to die

I'm waiting for the next dose
Coast to the next host

The chemical flies like a dove
It's name is love
Insomnia,
Once again we meet,
I've grown accustomed to your
Nightly *******,
A dangerous liaison in
Those early hours.

It's 5 o'clock in the morning
I'm tired worn withdrawn
The monotony of daily embargoes
Assaults on a mind.

So tainted with desire
Laying beside me, skin as pale
As ghost walkers of the night.

Unheard, betrayal forms
A multitude of symbolic reasoning
Classical mixtures of
The abstract mystical undertones
And tangible fears grounding selves
Burrowing deeper below the surface.

Māra is beside me, smiling
Oh how I wish I could
Get her to see
That I'm not seeking attention
I'm merely seeking redemption.

Her demonic shadow need not
Accompany me
Stealing hours of wakeful sleep
I'm no lover of hers anymore.

Insomnia,
I'm tired of this dangerous liaison,
I want freeing.

© Sia Jane
I only just found this! I'd typed it up on my phone when I couldn't sleep. And forgot! So here's another today :)
The master copyist hath made an appearance
Without being given the proper clearance
He's just blown in at another poetry site
One bets he'll be at his usual caper
Plagiarizing poet's work on his paper
Twas noted that he'd come to have a look
For poems which he could put in his own nook
None can be credited as a true write
This chap is serial at knocking things off
No wonder we should of him verily scoff  
As bold as a brass **** he was stealing
Slipping under the radar's scope to ******  
He's made that locale his casual patch
Hope he hasn't purloined those poet's writing
I have come to an impasse in my life
I no longer have a definitive direction
Now only questions without answers
And answers with no explanation
In all things I lack the closure I crave
Just a gaping hole filled with misery
I long to at last carve out the sorrow
To be free and **** that part of me
That part that refuses to let me heal
To let the scars of the past fade
But some wounds never truly mend
And in this realization I am unmade.
I'm in a dark place. Don't know if this will make sense to many, but just maybe one or two.
Are you really alive?
© Danny Mak 2014
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