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Jon Thenes Nov 2019
a convulsive shaking of the head

a tremble ;
it's no trouble
and i've slipped this disarray

shrugged off the character ;
an avatar i've maintained
for a dedicated period

a return to The Cunning

quake the sleeper agent
and unburden the actor

a return to Cunning

the weight is clipped
and the pouch rises to the surface
geesing the code

the dog program :
click the assignment
into a bleedable port

quake the sleeper
and unburden the act

charge up joy for the task ahead
start cleaning the toys of the trade  

re load the literature
retrain your physical form ;
blessed with muscular memory
and a breathing plan

the domestic ailments of the house
are striped and packed into the guest bedroom
the body hair is shaved to minimum
the workplace is given a sick call
then all the tech is despoiled
and the signal singed out

no more Mr. civilian
snuffed

the soldier
with unmarred purpose
is gratefully reattached to physical function
and mental manner

the soldier makes channels of the streets
tags favoured places
****** in relished corners
puts out an advertisement
a secretion
seeking to rejoin his staff
of instigation
Jon Thenes Jan 2019
All this having spanned
since a borning
is the activity of Sleeper Agent

This Agent has grown Impy
of this lively drumming of clingings

It is recognised and marked as ;
distraction
an entertainment
an irreverent viewing

A clearer work must commence
an underlying detached being

Operations within the drama life
are now operations in a training ground

All these efforts are toward Project Awake
and projected life is now secondary
though useful.
DaSH the Hopeful Jan 2016
Narcolepsy* hard and heavy watch me fall asleep
            Lulled to bed in a cunning thread of the tangled web we weave
    I dream in pristine colors, windows of my mind anew
No fingerprints or ***** looks or evidence of you

         I find comfort in forever wherever it may be
        I may have left my home but it will always stay with me
                 The smell of all the smoke with the sound of all the rain
   On constant playback every second deep within my brain

        I found that time is all that matters and everything else faded
        I spent years and years learning how to forget everything I hated
    I've only gotten older and have nothing left to show
              Except a ringing alarm clock and blood on my pillow

    
Narcolepsy** hard and heavy watch me as I sleep
     Another pill, another high, another date to keep
      If I shall die before I wake, I hope that I'm with you
    Then it won't matter where I go, cause you will see me through
Katlyn Orthman Nov 2014
The light fades behind the moon
My heart is once again tainted
It is as if the darkness assumes
My soul is to be repainted

It's claws thick and stained by blood
Like a werewolf it howls sadly at the sky
I thought then it understood, but
I plea, I beg, dear god tell me why

I become this monster in my flesh
When the sun descends and retires
I become overwhelmed by death
And give myself over to haunted desires

I am asleep inside my own mind
These acts are not my own
I wake horrified to find
That inside I'm not alone
Phosphorimental Oct 2014
I’ve got five minutes
Then I must leave my verdant patch
On the skirt of a wind-rustled lake
hidden behind Logan's Roadhouse

Five minutes
to mentally finger with the fetal position
In which I awoke this morning,
there as the sun drew long shadows,

I, a diminutive daub of nautilus,
On a California King,
rippled plane of sand,
Sporadic shivers, beneath a chenille blanket

I, the town crier of dawn as
My own dreams ran screaming through the silence
Pointing a finger at
my sanctuary… “Here is your pearl thief!”

Men in hats, briefcases, heel-toe black clicky and shiny shoes
on leashes lugged,
Yanked by noisy hounds passing by
stop, sniff, snarl-toothed *******…

then one caught my scent,
“Five minutes more sleep,” I implored
"Find another dreaming fleshy mess of bones!"
And leave me to my pearl.

But it’s a universe that simply will not wait
And suffer fools for sleepers,
not a moment more
Yet for my many sleepless minutes after,

Dusk till dawn, and still beyond,
it’s always,
                  five
         minutes
more

— The End —