They wake up
and shake off
the layers of dead skin
scraped off in their sleep
into a heap
of dead thoughts
swept up
in a maelstrom
of dead weeks
spent in their bedroom
without a peek
dead swoons & sweeps
through the rain drops
through the levees and creeks
and the dead fog
unchanged from the bleak
still breathing smog
dead fantasies
life shaped oblique
singing the same song
a sunken verse with dead rhymes
2 days in bed with the flu, coffee made me sleep, Nyquil kept me up
© January 28th, 2013 by Timothy R Brown. All rights reserved