Time escapes me, Seconds slowly separate,

Solely slowly slipping, melting mutely,

Minutes marching, molding me into something,

That can’t tell how much time passes.

It passes me on, makes passes at me,

And has passed me by,

And hours, whores its self away to create more days that,

Suffocate suffering seconds, and in a second I see,

Sleep is rarely an option.


Opting out on our hours of Alone,

And lonely leaves little left,

To take the time to try and Sleep,

A sick cycle of the awake and the always awake,

Waking dreams and never sleeping screams,

Rapidly regenerate to leave Room for more time,

And less me.

And boring minds always sleep,

So at least I must be interesting.


Intensely aware I’m imploding inward,

Eventually I’ll get the best of me and the rest of me is for you.

And suddenly suffering doesn’t seem like the worst thing I could do.

But really where’s the harm in silent slumber,

Swinging sleepily, sliding softly, solemnly to sleep,

Resting on my shoulder is just another cliché bolder,

That snores loudly in my ear.

If I could only learn from it.

A tourniquet of Ambien,

May lead to my regret.


But at least I could forget the songs that the living play,

When you close your eyes.

A disguise to keep eyes open but not to truly see,

Because how can one know the truth when one can never sleep?

But how can one know it’s a ploy to force waking under lids,

If one was only sleeping and that’s all they ever did.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.04.2011

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