Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2012
Sitting up late at night
with smoke seen through the t.v light.
I don't rest 'cause bed bugs bite
It's like I'm my own parasite.
Not symbiotic
nor chronic,
just nicotine and glowing screens.
Bloodshot eyes even though I'm clean.
A high intake of caffeine,
keeps away my lucid dreams
or nightmares.
It's called despair.
To  dwell on a concept,
reliving the consequence.
The past is no investment.
The future is a slight nuance
Its here that matters.
Eat not of a tin platter
This letter is self addressed
When your up at night and your mind won't rest
Can't figure out if your cursed or blessed
It's the present that grades your test.
© November 14th, 2012 by Timothy R Brown. All rights reserved.
Timothy Brown
Written by
Timothy Brown  27/M/America
(27/M/America)   
4.7k
   Hilda
Please log in to view and add comments on poems