Aug 2020
rustic brain calls upon late a night, wishing things will be done by the breaking of dawn.
oh, how i wish these sleepless nights could end in a spur. for years i have calculated, but have not documented those hideous moments to ever enter my sight. everywhere i look, a bickering thought arrives as if a group of chattering teeth lines through my mind when i'm suppose to be at rest.
in this shallow moment, let this end.
in this shallow moment, let's stop crying silently in our bed.
and as the morning rises, we could see brightly of the horizon. forgetting it for awhile until it crawls through at night. an unending cycle that causes a lot of fright. as if our brains lingers to the thought too tight.
rustic brain will soon heal
or so, or just life's haunting thrill
oh, how i wish these sleepless nights could end in a spur. for years i have calculated, but have not documented those hideous moments to ever enter my sight. everywhere i look, a bickering thought arrives as if a group of chattering teeth lines through my mind when i'm suppose to be at rest.
in this shallow moment, let this end.
in this shallow moment, let's stop crying silently in our bed.
and as the morning rises, we could see brightly of the horizon. forgetting it for awhile until it crawls through at night. an unending cycle that causes a lot of fright. as if our brains lingers to the thought too tight.
rustic brain will soon heal
or so, or just life's haunting thrill
a prose
