Tortured Night


Waking at this ungodly hour,
being bombarded with words...
Some come crashing around me
with such force I seek shelter.
Crawling over dark, rude and very hostile,
stirring up every deep and dark emotion.


While others come strung together
neatly like the words in a song.
In soft tones, I beg them to return
when the sun is up and shinning.
When writing at my desk I will gladly
open the gates for them to flood through.
Leaving me to navigate, searching for a
friend.


If this is is too confining, they are welcome
in my sleep...
but on gentle wings so as not to agitate.
I hope I have not insulted them
for I long to have them visit often.


Where would my world be without
these friends
clothed in the finest silks or dirty rags?
Come they with perfumed scents or
odors of things not so pleasant.


I now know I care not to live without them,
as my world would be an endless void.

Impressum

Texte: (c)2011
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.04.2011

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