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While waiting, tired and sore, my eyes tremble in awareness. Trying to wake up in a notorious dream. Bronze statues of gay senators, tales of despair, and maniacs. I think of Ginsberg and his reach to free speech, to tell all the fakers to smoke a dinosaur, to see the real world. I think of my sister, deceased, rotting down below, people praying to their unreal God. I dream of living in a narrow world, where the creeps judge the freaks, and prey on the high school cheerleaders. 3 lights, 2 dead, 1 burning out. I sit in my square bedroom, bay side blue walls. My heroes are dead, my only brother dead, paintings from my faded out great-grandmother hanging on the wall. Cd’s of suicidal music, stolen books from school, MAD magazines, no not that kind of madness you schmuck! Books filled with my ***** word poetry, two alarm clocks, one for noise, and the other for amusement. I sink, getting more tired, sinking in my box bed. What will I dream tonight? Sleep. I wake up with Shakespeare written on my lips. 2009
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Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
thinking about. . .
While waiting, tired and sore, my eyes tremble in awareness. Trying to wake up in a notorious dream. Bronze statues of gay senators, tales of despair, and maniacs. I think of Ginsberg and his reach to free speech, to tell all the fakers to smoke a dinosaur, to see the real world. I think of my sister, deceased, rotting down below, people praying to their unreal God. I dream of living in a narrow world, where the creeps judge the freaks, and prey on the high school cheerleaders. 3 lights, 2 dead, 1 burning out. I sit in my square bedroom, bay side blue walls. My heroes are dead, my only brother dead, paintings from my faded out great-grandmother hanging on the wall. Cd’s of suicidal music, stolen books from school, MAD magazines, no not that kind of madness you schmuck! Books filled with my ***** word poetry, two alarm clocks, one for noise, and the other for amusement. I sink, getting more tired, sinking in my box bed. What will I dream tonight? Sleep. I wake up with Shakespeare written on my lips. 2009
life night sleep
Johnbeetlelives
Written by
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
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