"bleariness" poems
I still don't sleep well at night sometimes. I miss you, whoever you are, or maybe I just miss having someone close to me I can put all of this love into, an outlet for my affection. Whatever the case, I spend my waking moments wondering where you are and my moments asleep wondering when. It's honestly getting harder to tell the difference between the two, the two infinite worlds of possibility where wild, unexpected things happen. Or don't. Sometimes the reality is more interesting than the dream.
There's a certain sense of tranquil quiet when you're lonely that I can only appreciate for about 5 minutes before my heart grips against its iron bars, looking for a key or a file or a spoon to leap its way out of my chest to freedom and adventure. It writes Morse code letters on skipped heartbeats to you, but I am a miserable translator and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my past, for all the wrongs I've committed in the nebulous black leviathan night, the almost-nightmare state of bleariness and hypnotic suggestibility. Clarity only comes when you spirit your marble curved likeness in the warm wooded embrace I do so long for in waking life.
I ramble and you float away, O kind angel of faint hope, white stone wings beating tremendously in sync like the buzzer of an alarm clock, striking me asleep again for daylight, somnambulating across the barren black-tar desert in search of water and finding only more black sand.
The nights have become more torturous without your colorless gaze. Please get here soon so I can tell you about how I've known you all my life.
With fondest regards,
Christian
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
You wrapped me up
In love so fierce
That all I could see
Was you.
Nothing but
you, you, you.
When you released your tentacles
And let me leave,
I blinked bleariness from my eyes,
And looked for you, but you were gone.
I looked for the warmth of a new cover up,
Someone who could wrap me just as tight,
And let me see only them,
And forget about you.
But it was never tight enough,
All I ever inhaled was cold, stale fumes,
And never the sweet cologne and hints of you own special lemongrass scent.
I became toxic.
Too many poisons digested, breathed in,
And now,
No one wants to even attempt to wrap me.
I miss you more than ever.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
I still don't sleep well at night sometimes. I miss you, whoever you are, or maybe I just miss having someone close to me I can put all of this love into, an outlet for my affection. Whatever the case, I spend my waking moments wondering where you are and my moments asleep wondering when. It's honestly getting harder to tell the difference between the two, the two infinite worlds of possibility where wild, unexpected things happen. Or don't. Sometimes the reality is more interesting than the dream.
There's a certain sense of tranquil quiet when you're lonely that I can only appreciate for about 5 minutes before my heart grips against its iron bars, looking for a key or a file or a spoon to leap its way out of my chest to freedom and adventure. It writes Morse code letters on skipped heartbeats to you, but I am a miserable translator and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my past, for all the wrongs I've committed in the nebulous black leviathan night, the almost-nightmare state of bleariness and hypnotic suggestibility. Clarity only comes when you spirit your marble curved likeness in the warm wooded embrace I do so long for in waking life.
I ramble and you float away, O kind angel of faint hope, white stone wings beating tremendously in sync like the buzzer of an alarm clock, striking me asleep again for daylight, somnambulating across the barren black-tar desert in search of water and finding only more black sand.
The nights have become more torturous without your colorless gaze. Please get here soon so I can tell you about how I've known you all my life.
With fondest regards,
Alex
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
My body trembled as those odd memories keeps in and out of my mind
Untold stories invade my inside
As my tongue tastes the bitterness of the words and exploring for the sentences to be told
My throat composes sounds of agony
As the darkness continues on thrusting itself into my chastity
The emptiness keeps on toying the zenith of my thoughts and searching in every inch of my conscience.
I can’t hold t anymore,
I scream!!!
I explode all the forgotten feelings inside of me
The painful juice of defeat is standing in front of me
Staring closely at my face, laughing victoriously
I’m all-in,
I discern the devilish grin of my past and it began to swallow my left energy
My apathetic eyes abate into bleariness
My lips involuntarily shut as I hold onto the collected sounds inside my throat
I bury myself into the depth of cold nights
I’m exhausted….
Maybe it’s time to release…
It’s time to let go all of my agitation and let myself drown within pleasurable dreams.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
do you ever notice,
how i won’t stop making jokes,
just to make you open the curtains,
let your teeth open the blinds,
as they peel apart, crescent moon shaped
letting your natural light flood over us,
even in the dark of mid-morning bleariness.
(brightness,
creating brown eyes glazed in honey,
my morning coffee).
but then somewhere above,
a cloud overcasts the rays.
minor eclipses, everyday
stealing the moment from me.
the sky has a way of telling you to look away,
i think.
but i’ve never been a fan of reality checks,
i don’t think.
as always, it’s bittersweet,
to see you in grey one more time.
a sepia photograph reminding me,
always,
that sometimes what’s for you,
does goes by you, with the wind
never to be had or held again.
but instead of dwelling on it,
i weave these dulled threads into a blanket,
cotton, familiar, protecting,
to put over my heart.
because every time you look at me,
as the light comes in,
i can see exactly what she’s falling,
drowsily, wholeheartedly
in love with.
and i won’t tell a lie, old boy
it hurts.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC