RUTHLESS FICTION

Tonight, I will not go to bed

Pouting saying it is not yet time

and complain that it is a crime

For I am not ready for this dread

No more sweat pouring down my head

or in those sheets a fiery balled

That crinkling and crackling tranquil sound

only in blankets and pillows found

No more of this symphony till I’m dead

I’ll rip the pillows into the winter wind

and set out feathers in a whirlwind

Like the dreams which I refuse to spar

turning to coffee as in a bar

over and over to forget this sleep

Away from me you dammed black sheep

But when the moon ends the day

On this hard and bitter stone ill lay

and your face to me it will return

within some sort of abusive fiction

For you are all my soul yearns

I’ll tear my heart out for you my addiction

What I would give to hold you instead

when I awake outside this bed

But only awaken wounds, a pain so ruthless

And from a puddle of saliva and mucus

Ill scream to say in curdling blood

Tonight, I will not go to bed

 

©PseudoBop 2017 All rights reserved.

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