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.

midnight sounds
of countless crickets –
     air conditioner joins in

the unbearable fear!
our white washed reality's
thin veneer
is pealing away
revealing the bloated
rotting carcass underneath
spewing dense shadows
& gnashing it's teeth
wailing helplessly the Word

the Word that man
has uttered throughout the ages
on various stages
& through the oppressing bars
of desolate cages

the very Word  
that brought us forth from the dark
now haunts our dreams
only passing our lips
through midnight screams

with a jolt
we bolt upright
out of our narcosis
paralyzed by fear
how did we get here?

The best message comes from you
But the worst part is, it makes me fall for you

𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒆 

         𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 
   𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 
        𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 

𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒔