Sleep is when
You’re awake, but unaware
Or comatose, and oblivious
Or dead, not a care
Sleep takes
The pains
Out of all things
Who’d want to be up
Not me
Let us sleep
No flowers
By request
Tag: verse
The Life I Save May Be My Own
A tiny thing
Crying and cowering
Behind the bins
Is that—
A cat!
A kitten rather
All big-eyed
And terrified
Shh, shh, she said
There, there
You’re good now
She broke
Into a smile
Because the life
She saves may be
Her own
A Miniature Portrait in Pink
Peeling pink polish
On a girl who’s been biting her nails
Again
Because the pain is easier to bear
Then
Disclaimers:
- I don’t bite my nails
- I don’t use pink polish
- I don’t write poems
The Motivational Inscription on My Mug
LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE
What the fuck?
That’s a bit too much to ask,
Right?
Isn’t there an easier task?
Like,
Die or
Lie in bed and
Stare at the wall.
No?
Alright.
If you must.
I certainly can’t.
A Pill a Day
I measure my weeks
In the number of pills
I take to calm down
To continue to exist
Not too many
Not to get a habit
Count them out
Don’t take too much
Although
Should I overdose
Never mind
Too many things
For the little pink pills
To take care of
To make unexist
Black, Red and None
When you dress black
To reflect
The dark matter in your head
When you dress red
To say that
You’re not dead yet
When you don’t dress
At all
Because
Just because
What a Quiet Night Tonight
When it’s so quiet
You think
You should hear yourself breathing
But you hear nothing
Have you gone deaf
Have you died
What’s happening
You’re terrified
Has it ever happened to you that you thought you went deaf because you couldn’t hear any sound around? The house is quite quiet tonight and it doesn’t seem right. I had to double-check that I’m not deaf, that I’m still breathing and that I’m probably still alive. I’m still terrified though for no good reason.
The Noise in the House in the Night
I’m waiting for my bedtime and not really up to anything. So I penned a poem (so-called). I was just listening.
In the middle of the night (but not midnight)
The laptop is humming
The old heater is crackling (but not heating
properly)
The cat isn’t purring (she doesn’t care
she should
for my poem)
A scream in the street
A door banging somewhere
More screaming coming
From seemingly everywhere
(A drunk domestic?)
The toilet flushing
Upstairs
The ancient floor creaking
Above my head
The house is unwell
Dear Sleeping Pill, You Had One Job
In the night
My mind is up and around
Alive, awake, awhirl
Churning out stuff
That happened
That didn’t
That should have
Heyou, mind,
Cut the crap
Stop the swirl
Let me rest
Brain dead
RIP
My sleeping pill is taking long to kick in, so I fingered a poem on the WordPress mobile app. It was horrendous. Both using the app and the poem. I think I’ve broken a finger or two.
Also I just shot the shot below from the app, zero editing. I can’t see how people can use the mobile app for posting stuff. I’m pissed off with it and this stupid idea of posting a pseudo poem hasn’t helped my sleeping at all. Eff that.
All the Same, All the Time
Loosely inspired by a recent somewhat heart-breaking post by Cardinal Guzman, I decided that the world needs more bad poetry.
At peace,
At home.
Alone.
Quiet, but not quite.
The kettle boiling,
Coffee brewing—
Another day, another night.
Mara Eastern 