late night bout of insomnia
once shy, twice bitten by Sir Jeffrey
creature of the night flustered
cigarettes and English tea
rice cakes and water
the nauseating aftermath
of a rampaging war hammer
impromptu dinner emptied
bloodied spaghetti puddles
filtered water flowing freely
slumber gods still denying entry
a steaming slag pile of junk
battered, fighting a losing battle
scratching itches arising spontaneously
I feel like I am doing time
waiting for words to help me forget
a creative burst: the consolation
my weary head tilted downward
oh, how much I now regret waiting
waiting then for the man to come
waiting now for insomnia to concede
syringes long emptied and blunted
it's going to be a long night
you can bet your life, it is
No comments:
Post a Comment