To the man who is up all night,
Who some never see.

Isn't it lovely to be?
To be paid to just to watch them sleep.

So peaceful in their slumbers.

You rarely have a thing to do.
Yet you are paid none the less.

But the job costs more than it pays...

And your jabbering keeps haunted minds alert and on guard.

And its hard for you to be alert too...

When you need to be.

For appointments, errands, social activities, and such.

You take care of us...
But you must take care of you!

Oh mystery man who does not sleep.
Be careful my dear.

Someday it may be you,
Restless in their beds.
Keller 2d
I don't know what it feels like to be someone's first choice.
To be a priority.
To be special to someone.
I'm tired of aching for things
That I won't receive.
I'm tired of hurting for people
Who can't even remember
What color my eyes are.
My heart hurts.
Keller 2d
Restless and stressed over things
I cannot control
I wish I could stand back
And look at things as a whole.
My father always said I could never see the big picture.
Ijla Apr 4
00 00
The world is silent..
And though my eyes remain closed,
I lie awake.
Listening to the sound of each passing second.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock
Memories of a distant time
Replaying in my mind like a broken record.
Twisting and turning,
Hoping for something
Thats become too rare.
A peaceful sleep, a rest for my soul
But one can only hope
For something as out of reach as this
Sleep isn't just a rest for the body but for the soul as well.
Ps.. wrote this one at the end of last year. I've had sleeping problems since two years before . But it's never been this bad.
Nimbus Mar 12
I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust
My restless soul longs for something fulfilling
CA Smith Mar 8
Sometimes,
I think to myself,
that it's too good to be true.
Then I find myself wondering,
how I could be with somebody like you.
Only one date in,
it felt like a sin.
Because you're too pretty,
to be with a guy like me.
I guess it's really just,
my self esteem.

But I got to say
(I would probably every day)
You're just so damned beautiful.

How to say it tho?
Of that I don't know,
how to show,
my thoughts when they're truly that sincere.

I mean, it's only been one month.
We really don't see each other much.
But you're really happy?
With me?

I'd show you this.
But then I might miss.
The chance for another date.
It's just,
I really appreciate,
the way that you're so thoughtful.
You listen and you're kind.
You never even say it if my poems are awful!

What is it I like so much?
You're,
well,
you're just as you as can be.
And nobody else.
And that's why you're so special.
Just writing down my thoughts while trying to get to sleep.
Tonight I lack the strength to even move.
Delusive ropes entwined with my limbs
And I’m bound against my crinkled bedspread;
like a deer on the hood of a truck;
(You’re the hunter and I was the prey).
I’m addicted to you.
I cannot help but let—
My tears slip from my bloodshot eyes and
streams down into my fractured heart
Filling
The
Familiar
Void
Inside me;

The place you once use to be.
Juverine Wan Feb 22
Busy days
Long hours,
Closing eyelids,
On the buses.

Drooping eyes,
Sore knees,
Cranky voices,
Like a breeze.

Hard day,
Aching back,
Groans and moans,
Tried to slack.

Need a rest,
Need some time,
Need a home,
Need a more rhymes.
Idk guys just trying to go with the flow here HA. Ha. ha.
I spent the night creating,
painting,
sighing.
I sipped some water, my paintbrush sipped some water before being thrusted into a smear of color once more.
All the while I sat listening to sad songs from the 1950s
All of them complete with lots of twang and a few young bucks howling into microphones over lost lovers.
Leisure, and for what?
I’m beginning to think I was weaned on restlessness.
For I crave destruction each full moon
In despite of my perpetual need to create.
I run around looking a fright.
Cutting statues and watching them bleed marble blood,
Burning paintings just to hear them howl and drip.
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