Sleepy-Head Poetry
I couldn't sleep last night. One of those nights when your brain won't turn off and release you to sleep. I rolled out of bed and 3 hours later had filled pages and pages of an old notebook with vauge phrases that seemed "deep" during the wee hours. Finally at 3:00 am I had emptied my brain of any cogent thoughts and was able to fall asleep. This morning I had to laugh when I looked back through the "poems." Only one passed the light-of-day test. The rest only qualify as poetry by their shameless lack of punctuation and confusing line breaks. Here are the ramblings of an insomniac:
Ex
Years later
Buried in a box
I find your shirt.
It leers brashly
up at me.
Daring me.
My darting eyes quickly assess
I am alone.
Fingers gingerly
touch
its faded pattern.
I scan once more
for voyeurs.
I cannot resist.
My nose plunges deep
into the thick cotton.
Your smell intoxicates me.
Rips me from the room
Dragging me back
Back to you.
Looking into your eyes once more,
I suddenly remember with a chuckle
Why the shirt
is all that remains.
Ex
Years later
Buried in a box
I find your shirt.
It leers brashly
up at me.
Daring me.
My darting eyes quickly assess
I am alone.
Fingers gingerly
touch
its faded pattern.
I scan once more
for voyeurs.
I cannot resist.
My nose plunges deep
into the thick cotton.
Your smell intoxicates me.
Rips me from the room
Dragging me back
Back to you.
Looking into your eyes once more,
I suddenly remember with a chuckle
Why the shirt
is all that remains.
Comments
Man, I can relate...