Night is young
I am weak
These thoughts are not the first to speak
Drown them out
Slur their speech
Put them there
Just out of reach

If I could sleep until tomorrow
Then I’d be fine
But I couldn't be bothered
The way today is designed
Too pish
Too posh
Too easy to slip
Right back to dreamland is my only wish

and I’m not sad anymore
in fact I cant feel a thing
not from anger
not from kindness
not when instruments sing
emotionally muted
my tender tenderized
terrorized
and then burnt up
put out and then deep fried
I’d become despondent
then drifted out to sea
no longer look for shore
decided to just be

There’s a journal in the cabinet
Right beside my bed
In it filled are pages
Covered in pencil lead
Scribbled are the things I’d never dare to say
Thoughts that have no voice
Dreams that have no place

images in picture frames
shelves to hold them up
wrinkled smiles gloss over
eyes that shout for help
silence
nobody to the rescue
no distant sight of shore
hopeless

hope so
or hope soon
disappointment rounds the corner
photos
of long June
again begin to surface
missteps
misspoken
miss the lips that led
lips the lied
mystified
wish that hope was dead