Nothing on my mind
but a tired eye
heavier the slits close
tighter wanting to be shut
A yawn assumes my destiny
sleepless I sit
and loathe being awake
To dream, to conquer,
to be everything I make
A gleam of bursting
tangible light,
humming
The tune as if the bulb
were turned too tight
as my head bobs
up and down
Like the nods of the yes-men,
the beggars and their plows,
Acquitted with nonsense
foretold tomorrows vows
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 3:53 PM UTC
Nothing on my mind
but a tired eye
heavier the slits close
tighter wanting to be shut
A yawn assumes my destiny
sleepless I sit
and loathe being awake
To dream, to conquer,
to be everything I make
A gleam of bursting
tangible light,
humming
The tune as if the bulb
were turned too tight
as my head bobs
up and down
Like the nods of the yes-men,
the beggars and their plows,
Acquitted with nonsense
foretold tomorrows vows
Trying to stay awake on a submarine, literally