Sleep calls from a distance
I turn; on a bed of yesterday's tears
and tomorrow's dreams.
The weight of their expectations
lies heavy like a nursing baby
on my chest.
I do not want it.
I'm afraid the bed is too small
for the both of us.

Sometimes I wish
I had a graph
Of where I allocate my thoughts
So I could see
In plain, naked sight
How much negativity consumes me
And I'll finally realize
I have so much to be mad about
But a lot to be happy about
Too

I rest my head on her shoulder,
The shoulder of the earth;
Cradled in her warmth,
Caught by shifting currents,
Cleansed by ****-frost’s pervasive bite;
Tutored by seasons’ changes.

Musing to myself that she has faith in me,
That I have something to offer her;
Negotiating with my intellect,
Letting my imagination run wild,
Enough to entertain the idea that
I am capable of something more than this.

Liberty tasked to a brass bell
Feigns dull a **** on consequence
Heather wanes wilt oer rosy death on winters mete
Bellowed ripe in reprise a thick on natures breach

In hurried flush a hue sets on sire scalp silken sheath
Feathering fire to lucidious claim a flay
Ambushed by echoes martyr
A drench in brines commence

Set down as thorn on kreep of ivy
A bit to writ
Chucks tic to a tocs tail
Wapping wimp to a mustard sail

Words on me,
Adoring my body.
Poetry in my soul,
Lighting up my insides.
Heart fragile,
Taking in the wild emotions.
Head aches with glory,
Trying to write an unwritten story.