For now-
Go to sleep
And wake up a better person.

What if it is not what I imagined
What if the cold breeze is harsh on me
What if I couldn't find my warmth then
What if I feel lonely, even though I wish to be alone
What if that dream stays as a dream
What if I fail to love the moment
But what if,
What if all my "what-if's" are wrong

Thoughts racing in my head
Laying in bed wide awake
Loneliness getting on my nerves
Closing my eyes hard, to sleep

But all I can do is weep
Wanting love & also afraid of heartbreak
Oh god, show me the way
In this treacherous terrain

The devil's time, its so true
Cause it feels like hell trying to forget you
Starving, but my heart is content
With immoral flashbacks of the time we both spent

Holding the pillow tight, it hurts to think
That my imagination pictures your perfectly until i blink
Street lights shine from my room's windows
**** my ***** mind for thinking of you with innuendos

Insomnia's to blame for what a disappointed heart did
Selling your heart away as if it was some bid
The clock carries on as the blankets feel lonely
Useless are the promises you know were made solemnly

Ive been gone.
A long awaited freedom.
Gone for so long.
Ive been gone.
For too long,
Ive been gone.

In my memories,
A past lingers in a haze.
The spaces so divided,
A connection seemingly quixotic.

Its cloudy.
Its dark.
A moment in space.

It feels like an eternity.
Floating in a universe with possible impossibilities.
Yet I remain aimlessly afloat,
enshrouded in nothing.

No drift
No serendipity
No clemency
To pull me from this cold idle.

And when I see a comet hurdling by,
I can only wish to share its great journey.

Today, tiredness
has strapped itself
to my ankle bones.
I'm walking upstairs
with adult weight,
dragging eyelids open,
nudging consciousness
still lying in the road -
desperate to drive along
that towering bridge
and back into

last nite, the strokes
of three, four and five
passed me knowingly
like a former lover.
Grudges were embedded
long before the peak.
There were teeth marks
left in breeze blocks,
street signs stolen
as the town went under.
Down a park slide,
we deep-dived life.
Climbed theatre roofs
to discuss our plays.
Threw our shoes,
plus socks, in frost,
before settling on home.
American video calls.
Empty cereal bowls.
Maybe six or seven
goodnight smokes
with a slumped hug,
voicebox croaked
during the final tokes

and I'm under covers -
today, tomorrow.
There are crumbs
on a camera lens
and fingerprints
smudged on mirrors
hidden behind a face.
I'm not coherent,
feeling anything
but God, this Sunday.