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bri Aug 2022
The bed has never been the comfiest place to sleep in.
Everywhere else is better than sleeping on a bed.
The couch is inviting, soft, weird place to sleep, but acceptable.
Single wooden chairs lined perfectly, not so much.
But still, better than a bed.
The floor too, albeit cold and flat, it stretched my muscles into place, held me to the ground until I was fast asleep,
so still, it is better than a bed.
Sitting while im on my desk supposedly doing my homework is also better than laying in bed.
Why was everywhere else so much better than being where I should be?
I never fell asleep on the bed. It was too stuffy, too suffocating, too boring, too everything.
It was loud, and banging on my mind with quietness and precision as it does every night.
But most especially, it felt too much like a coffin.
I’d rather sleep anywhere else than on the bed.
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2022
I stand and wobbily make way to the door

Night fallen so quickly again

Afraid of dark
Shut the door and turn around
Not before flipping the lock

Instead of going to move amongst glowing lights and the odor of *****
Slip into pajamas and slide under the covers of my dependable bed
If patient
Sleep will find my skull eventually

So once more I am left in the space between dreams and reality
To float amidst streams of wind inside my empty mind
Nigdaw Jul 2022
I never felt a part of it
had a plan of how to spend
this gift of 24 hours
so if it's ok
I'll leave the curtains drawn
and sleep on into the afternoon
let me know
if this is likely to happen again
Ylzm Jun 2022
It'll speak to you when you wake
Thus I wallow long in bed
Till I hear and duly feed
Then I'll rise and eat the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Even at times before bed
Then you're waiting as dawn peeks
To run with no time for cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
But ignore it before bed
In nightmares it'll haunt your sleep
Till you walk and forgo cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Why study when time for bed
Books are weary but sleep's sweet
Thus you'll eat and keep the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
If not you'll despise your bed
To roam and ceaselessly seek
For real food and not the cake
Anish Goel Jun 2022
I can still see
your lipstick stains on my bedsheets
I haven't washed them yet
The memory is all I have left
I S A A C May 2022
all the wells are empty
the wars are lost
all the children cry
but we focus on our capital instead
homeless crowd the streets but we blissfully sleep
in our egyptian cotton sheets, in our bed of lies counting sheep
praying away all the evil eyes
welcome to the end times
My Love Maria is like a great flower bed full of Clematis Maria Cornelia,
Which at ****'s break; LOVE's true light brings her sweet flower's to full glory at daybreak and at midday her flower's shine with a glory like the Sun and the Moon herself,
Her sweet flowery fragrance takes me to the heavens,
Because her LOVE is white and pure like the snow on the ground in winter time,
Her smile is the gateway to heaven itself and her teeth are white like snow on the hills of Scotland itself,
So may; I be the blessed drone bee to help her husband do the blessed act of pollination in our love together,
So White and Beautiful is my Clematis Maria Cornelia,
So White and Beautiful is my Clematis Maria Cornelia,
So White and Beautiful is my Clematis Maria Cornelia.
(15/12/2021)
Tony Tweedy Dec 2021
Dark of night surrounds me, pillow below my head.
How long the many hours since I tumbled onto my bed?

Mind so filled with thought that clearly has me stressed.
Racing, scattered thought that just wont let me rest.

Blanket that feels loose and shifts to feel oh so tight,
and so it sets the pattern for this never ending night.

I know that I must sleep before the rise again of the sun,
in a world that cant relent from insistence things must be done.

My body urgent in its craving to be silent and be still,
but my mind just wont give in possessing the stronger will.

A discomfort on my left side, so I roll again to my right.
Countless repetition through the hours of a god forsaken night.

Nothing that I do brings a sense my mind is nearing calm,
I must try to get some sleep before clock sounds its alarm.

So the hours go, too many hours surely for just one night,
but too late now to rest as window reveals dawns early light.
Oh too many nights like this....
W Winchester Oct 2021
444
From within my
Glass house
I keep a pillow
Full of stones
To lay my
Weary head
A chest full of
Bricks
To build my bed
And a cabinet
Full of molotovs
In case I need
A drink
hmmm
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