Lull my body
dull my self,
ye good poet of mine;
I could use some lullaby
at this starry night—starry
stars in heavens, creations
from the comforter;
oblivion now seemingly a synonym of
blissful state of a mind;
countless stars—starry are they,
boundless thoughts—wild, rowdy
thoughts and imaginations
un-checked, stimulating,
eager to be loaded and fired,
and so on, et cetera.
They are crossing the sky
dressed in a hue of midnight.
I think of my late-night coffee
to be some reason for this,
but I'll never be sure, still.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 10:31 PM UTC
Lull my body
dull my self,
ye good poet of mine;
I could use some lullaby
at this starry night—starry
stars in heavens, creations
from the comforter;
oblivion now seemingly a synonym of
blissful state of a mind;
countless stars—starry are they,
boundless thoughts—wild, rowdy
thoughts and imaginations
un-checked, stimulating,
eager to be loaded and fired,
and so on, et cetera.
They are crossing the sky
dressed in a hue of midnight.
I think of my late-night coffee
to be some reason for this,
but I'll never be sure, still.
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