The grave silence in this ocean of sheets,
Found me in the belly of them,
Twitches of solitude
Itches of morning
Whispers of dark rays
Covers of night.
While the clock ticks
My hair they pick.
Sagging the bags beneath my eyes
As tears dribble down my spine.
Crunches of misery, wavering of time
Sisters of night, lovers of dark
Grant me this plea
For just, a minute slumber, I, desire.
It is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still no blink.
Names from many tribes and ages given
Sick, insomnia, depression, insanity, illusion,
hypnosis
Witcraft, magic, lost, Satanism.
Still, no, sleep,
They are no strangers, not friends
But between the leaves
We fly on a plane quiet and lonely,
I see them, they see me,
We, all, lost in time, lost in us.
It is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still, no, blink
We were never friends nor foes,
Never hate nor love,
We were ourselves,
Finding solace in this void,
They called and I answered
I fall, they wait for my rising
Like a rasin they cut me before my due date
And I find reason on the bench of their aura
I kiss them with dwindling eyes
Yet we never ejaculate in pleasure land
They stare while I count the white cubes above
tearing my eyes wide,
Tearing pages, scribbling words,
Screening visions and watching my nightmare,
For it is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still no blink
We were never friends nor foes,
Never hate nor love,
They were me as I was them
Slowly striding the path to light,
Kissing the past on the lips of today.
Munching possibilities with teeth of uncertainties
They are here again
Striding pass my window,
I see them, they see me
Unlocking my soul
To their seduction
Caressing their tender breasts
As they stroke my mind.
Ecstasy of night,
Sweetness of morning
Illness of Noon,
We were never friends nor foes,
We were little creatures,
Finding our path on the misty desert of our bare lives
It is 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, still no sleep.
written by Andrew Patience (AP)
