#mattress
my arms are static
my legs are rocky air
my torso dips into
the skyward of mattress
I brought yesterday in my hands to set out in the sun
it didn’t take long to burn right up
my eyes trail the flecking ash in the air
there’s nothing i wish to hide
yet i sit like one car
parking lot tar matches the sky
at 3 am
is the static channel on the tv
still there when you turn off the screen
i think i see it when i close my eyes
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 4:16 PM UTC
The squishiest mattress is a cloud,
So soft it shouldn’t be allowed.
To stiffen the vapor
They take our their scraper
To shave off of sleet’s brittle shroud.
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 2:09 PM UTC
I flip conversations with people like a mattress,
just an excuse to put a lot of arguments to rest.
As if time isn't good enough for me to miss,
I'll set my targets on doing something better another time,
to come back to the previous line's rhyme,— just
to prove I haven't fallen asleep, as I digress.
Still with all due respect, respect for a lot of things
seems a bit late, when all the clocks are put to death;
while we're all killing most of the time. But I should
bag a couple more seconds, to add to the restlessness
under the bags of my eyes.
....I'm always so less inspired, when I actually have
something sensible to write,— To then choose to write
more when I'm round the corner of Writer's block,
breaking down every block of thoughts in my Tetris mind.
But seriously, what was the point of this in the first
place anyways,— right about some random mattress.
A mattress sort of represents me trying to stay soft with
my words, but being firm with their initial cause.
And somewhere in between this prose, I'm supposed to
quote how you shouldn't be sleeping on my words.
That's easy an cliche, a cliche to me, of waking up to an
ugly day from a long beauty rest. Sorry I meant to say
ironic; and it's sort of comic. Not the one that makes
you laugh, but the material magazine you flip over
like the start of my random mattress.
And just like that, how I start most of the things in my life,
is how it ends, and starts again. So I guess for flips sake,
I'm back to flipping the mattress again, and again...
Dec 29, 2023
Dec 29, 2023 at 4:57 PM UTC
DIVINE
intergalactic
body spirit mine
Jayapuriya twin flame
beloved under starry sky
constellations yours mine
This are sounds emitted
melancholically in a trance,
pressed down longing
between our Beauty Restm
and the vessel of thee.
oh how I love thee.
my rddpc-rd
I thee give.
~~~~
By Angel- Karijinbba
2021 September.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 8:49 PM UTC
Comfortable rectangle
Entanglements
Stranger sleeping
Feeling, breathing
Mostly dreaming
Self exploration
Starlit sobbing
Skin cells
Sweat beads
Strands of hair
Morning whispers
Morning breath
Laughing, touching
Alarm clocks
Departures
Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 1:39 AM UTC
my great throat tree is featured in float parades now
sponsored by paper mills
they send us free notebooks and you leave me
rounds of exquisite corpse to play
or folded frogs
or news of another alleged abduction with ***** political jokes in the margins
or the times you jot down to remember when you thought of the ghost
when i find these on my table, i sneak off for a phone call to the mattress
the mattress doesn’t care to watch parades on live broadcasted television
i can hear the ghost making breakfast on the other end
the mattress stares at the ceiling mostly and i remember this and i’m so
thankful
for you
i pick up a folded sheet and draw the trunk torso
and inside the tree trunk i draw a little man playing the french horn
but before drawing hearts spilling from the brass
i drew a massive ***
i smiled, knew you’d appreciate it, and started sweeping
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 1:13 PM UTC
the mattress is possessed and my days are numbered
my numbers are possessed and
tree branches are starting to grow from inside
my neck, sprouting ****** bulbous limbs
wearing the springs of my mattress
in my sleep, the tree talks to my mattress
from my throat
they are in cohorts and I suppose
the ghost has nothing to do with it
but in the end the ghost will
have an affair with the mattress
and they will run away leaving the tree
and my numbers
I can’t speak because of the
tree
and the karmic terror
of the heavy branches tearing
through my throat
the ghost doesn’t know about the tree
the mattress will never tell her
the mattress is missing several springs
the mattress is possessed and can only speak in tongues
so the ghost only hears the whispers of leaves
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 8:33 PM UTC
She was irresistible, irreplaceable
make one false move and put your place on hold;
The backbone of desire pumping through the wire, set her loose & watch her flow,
candle wax oozing, resisting control
our flavored dispute; set conversation on mute, but I still hear you in my head
every time the light turns red,
I can still feel you on my skin
at the end of the day when my patience drags thin.
Coddle this inside its synthetic cradle,
no one knows the secrets a day holds
but I know how to win & slowly begin
again, after arrows are dragged with lead,
speaking from a place of dread & coaxed from a respite of poor taste,
Twin mattress replaced
with everything I couldn't say,
pending transactions we swept away
to be posted at a later date;
I'm keeping my warnings slow and my feet above my head
Twin mattress replaced
with everything I should have said.
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
I hid my old bed in the basement
of the last place I lived
sitting with the box spring and frame
It’s a great, full set
I had to let it go
roaming back home
which is nowhere near close
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
right hand - cack hand
misinfected
an inebriant
a heat of intoxicants
'Recover Your Presence Of Mind'
i don't even have my mattress raised
from upon the floor
spilled drinks
moulds
and pages soaked to the boarding
snoring in spores
infested with messages
in nest with it all
best to withdraw
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
I'm really not a dancer
more like a fish far from the sea
flopping gasping, dying
on a spasmodic twerking spree
don't ask me to explain
why the dance floor lacks my style
trust me when I say
***** Dancing, I'll defile
so when we hit that date
the one where you check my moves
don't judge me right away, but wait
cuz in bed, I'm really smooth
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
I was told a brain on poem was a terrible thing to waste . To which I retorted ,"Which one is wasted?"
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
His lips traces her every line
Their breaths are all they hear
She raises a glass of wine
He sees a glass so clear
Creased sheets of the mattress
in the hot summer of May
A moment of their unrest
As the sun sets by the bay
Their breaths grew quicker
As they reached the dawn of the night
Their muscles clenched tighter
A release of spring- without a fight
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
"We walk upon the brown"
Giver of life,
"We walk upon the brown"
Fertile mother earth,
"We walk upon the brown"
She feeds upon us when gone,
"We walk upon the brown"
We strolled on deaths mattress
So many below, for soon we will
Be one of those, while others
"Walk upon the brown"
Mother earth feasts on death below.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Wanting to
learn the jungle from the mattress,
I set it outside, surrounded,
by a mosquito net
pitched unto two
palm trees, in winter to
avoid coconuts falling by the southern terrace;
you should've joined me
In February, I can tell you
I never slept for carnaval.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
The edge of the mattress
seats my brittle, crouched over body
Or maybe a corpse
rotted by the swirling troubles
that dizzy such a potential mind
into a useless blend of mess and worry
And the heart, left so empty
after the pathetically desperate offers it chanced for love
for a core to this depleting vessel
But now left more bare than the farthest of trenches
or the frigidly dry desert winds
More stale in my sleep than the powerless sands
whisked by its ruthless wrath
The slumbering visions
so personally horrifying
The void that infects my soul, so closely as exhausting
as when they end with my eyes' opening
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Thinking of you sleeping by my side rouses new feelings deep within me. Leftover makeup melts off my face and I sink lower and lower into the mattress. I remind myself that I can't fall any lower than the floor, although it feels like the opposite.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC