When I'm tired
I can never seem to sleep.
Crashing waves in my head,
Or crashing cars...?
Are my thoughts what I want
To wade knee-deep into
After a long day?
Or are they deadly self-portraits
Of my day made of
Brain matter and blood
And whatever else comes from
A body after instant death?
Sunny days are what hide the stars,
Not crashing waves and crashing cars.