Tendrils of drowsy pleasure entice and hypnotise,
As daybreak storms; a rapturous collision,
Of distorted cadences and scintillating harmonies,
Between discarded blue-sky sheets.
‘I love to feel the temperature drop and the wind increase just before a thunderstorm. Then I climb in bed with the thunder.’
- Amanda Mosher, Better To Be Able To Love Than To Be Loveable
Eyes growing heavy
body shutting down
work still piling
on these files I might drown
Not yet time to sleep
not yet time to go
so these dreary eyes
I cannot let show
deadline not met
task not achieved
can't sleep yet.
Blur takes over
sleep approaches fast
fifteen more minutes
but I know I won't last
as the dream creeps in
I fought hard
to not let the sleep win
strength completely drained
begging the sleep, please
have some mercy
but all I remember was zzzzz's
my literal situation right now... writing this poem was the only way I stayed awake.
spine curls into a question mark
hands sing sonatas of symbols
while head keeps track of seconds passed
and days lost
toes tuck absent-mindedly into socks
shy and scared of being sought
for hiding in such a place
their secret hideaway in sleep
hearts still thumping
says goodnight to bloodstreams
with quiet pulsing kisses
bathes the rest of body
in thin coats of keep steady
ready to deliver dreams
fated to their impermanence
I am not myself
I'm flying to the skies
I'm starring to the shelf,
I see small dice...
I see images on the clear wall
I think I heard something fall
It was someone's pen
I believe I need caffeine then.
My thoughts are very random...
I am the empress of my own kingdom.
I'll just write this down,
Cause in drowsiness, I've drown.
I was sleepy as hell...
When the night begins to fall,
You look at me – for a brief moment – with drowsy eyes,
A moment so short as to not be present.
If you left your heart in my embrace,
I could have held you even when you were away in your dreams;
The short, pale gaze would have lasted, confessed love.
But sleep had embraced you much before I could,
You were in sleep already, when you looked at me
– your eyes just about to leave at last.
I'm not hurt, but a little upset that I couldn't
catch you for a little longer.
Coffee stained lips
Kiss of tiredness
laziness seeping through my veins
I cant get out of bed, no!
Filing errands makes you drowsy and nautious.
The tube dampens your senses.
The highrises make you feel down.
Your values are re-prioritised.
You become the binmen’s *****,
but all is not charred.
You have the chance to remember before,
and you grasp redemption as sand now sifts through your fingertips.
The stars awaken the you beneath the superficial.
The water nourishes your ignored thirstiness for passion.
Written while spending time in Mexico. I had just finished my first term of university and despite all the fun I had had, I was depressed. Away from evweything, Mexico gave me the chance to work on myself and recover.
pain slipping into the marrow that sips
the endless routine of motion
those clumsy hands blistering
into the open spaces of hollow ventricles
blood is where you last lay your skeletons to rest
but the closet is where i could lay down
listen to all the hangers falling into seismic harmony
until my chest aligns with yours
like any other bruise by any other name i would have you
gently misplaced on the side of a skinned knee or
i am your god and you are mine
if i could breathe like a king i would as
the romantic exhale is caught in your skin
when the fickle violence leaves the lipstick of my mouth
you talk about the emperor mole in the middle of your back
touching your spine and how i retrace it every night with my finger
and it's almost like the heavens are here
in a small bed on a mundane apartment
that could be anybody's
about you and no one else
the river Eyn, between outstretched hands
flows to lands farther than
ear has heard or eyes have searched
and they say the land twists and shifts
at her end
'til one is sailing up again
She flows like drowsy eyes in midafternoon daze
languidly stretching back and forth before the haze
the foggy mists that sit atop her skin smooth surface
shade from daylight
her sailors sleeping to sail the moonlight
I stood atop my little ship
to see the faces of passers-by
who watch the ships from shoreside
On each face I looked so long
but always obscured was the evening sun
what tree or branch, or mist or shade
I cannot see what faces made
Dreary drowsy eyes begin to close
she will close them, Eyn
so I might sail the moonlight
midnight's rays of clear and blue
and bathe pensive in cerulean hue.
These eyes are weighted
Offering peace to this fight
Sleep sweeps me away