Apr 2010
I’m just trying to sleep.
I’m sleeping I’m sleepy let me sleep sleep sleep.
Sleep until the quiet floods
Sleep until I have no more dreams.
I wish I could sleep until eternity
Until eternity kicks my stomach
I wish I could sleep till my arms are trees and my feet are grass Mother Nature holds me like her child and I become part of her great physique.
I sleep on my thoughts and my hopes are my dreams and I know that as long as I sleep the pressure of sun never feels too heavy the pressure of gravity never too sturdy.
I float in slumber, a baby in a womb I float and smile and clench my fists and wait for the light, this light which does not lead to the hurt and the hearts and people and restlessness.
No this light will be different than the first this light will have joy.
It will have love.
This is my dream; but my reoccurring nightmare is that I will yearn for
sleep so much that it will one day take me and I will not wake from the slumber I cry for.
I will lie in waiting.
In waiting for a man who will never come because he won’t know that I need him, how could he know?
No one will remember to mention it, they will be too busy attending to the duties the tasks the burdens of an unexpected death.
And he will perhaps come to mourn the loss of a girl he didn’t really know as a respectful friend of a friend, but his life will not be affected and he will not know that he could have awoken the girl who never woke up, how could he?
I couldn’t tell him.
And there I would lie six feet from where I always wanted to be, six feet too far from the light and the sun which was too heavy in the morning but is more beautiful than life in the ground.
And he may stand above me one day, perhaps at the funeral perhaps on my birthday perhaps because he was in the neighbourhood of cemeteries and wanted to pop in for a friendly visit.
And in my dreams I would scratch my case and break my nails and scream my fears but no one will hear me for I am asleep.
He will not hear me for he is awake.
And he will not dig, he wouldn’t know.
Then he would leave,
to live.
And I would sleep,
to death.
I’m sleeping I’m sleepy let me sleep sleep sleep.
Sleep until the quiet floods
Sleep until I have no more dreams.
I wish I could sleep until eternity
Until eternity kicks my stomach
I wish I could sleep till my arms are trees and my feet are grass Mother Nature holds me like her child and I become part of her great physique.
I sleep on my thoughts and my hopes are my dreams and I know that as long as I sleep the pressure of sun never feels too heavy the pressure of gravity never too sturdy.
I float in slumber, a baby in a womb I float and smile and clench my fists and wait for the light, this light which does not lead to the hurt and the hearts and people and restlessness.
No this light will be different than the first this light will have joy.
It will have love.
This is my dream; but my reoccurring nightmare is that I will yearn for
sleep so much that it will one day take me and I will not wake from the slumber I cry for.
I will lie in waiting.
In waiting for a man who will never come because he won’t know that I need him, how could he know?
No one will remember to mention it, they will be too busy attending to the duties the tasks the burdens of an unexpected death.
And he will perhaps come to mourn the loss of a girl he didn’t really know as a respectful friend of a friend, but his life will not be affected and he will not know that he could have awoken the girl who never woke up, how could he?
I couldn’t tell him.
And there I would lie six feet from where I always wanted to be, six feet too far from the light and the sun which was too heavy in the morning but is more beautiful than life in the ground.
And he may stand above me one day, perhaps at the funeral perhaps on my birthday perhaps because he was in the neighbourhood of cemeteries and wanted to pop in for a friendly visit.
And in my dreams I would scratch my case and break my nails and scream my fears but no one will hear me for I am asleep.
He will not hear me for he is awake.
And he will not dig, he wouldn’t know.
Then he would leave,
to live.
And I would sleep,
to death.
