billybillybilly

can't sleep.

can't fucking sleep.

random trips back to the internet for comment checks and cigarette breaks between routine tossing/turning:

right side. no.
left side. no.
flat on back. no.
repeat.
repeat.
try something different.
get up.
smoke, check comments.

what's going through my head? thoughts like cancer. thoughts like i've permanently damaged my throat from years and years of abuse and over-use.

thoughts like this apartment is just as alone as my last one, and the next one (that i saw today, that i plan on moving into) will probably be similar.

however, there's a bar across the street from that one. time will fly.

i've had this series of poems i wrote a long time ago replacing sheep to halt my napping, stopping me from resting. this is the third journal entry since i've been awake today. gotta do something constructive, but i have no new ideas, so i'm going to amalgamate that series into an entirely new poem with entirely different thoughts running through it. for someone else, but we'll keep the title.

*

Liz

me in a mirror and you

stand in front making
all my motions
holding arms out
diving through my dreams.

your eyes flash stopping
under neon signs

my acoustic off key,
we'll never hit the road
ten bucks between us...

bump the table and light ripples across the side of my cup
and your eyes flash away
and a part of you slipped through my fingers.

a breath near your face
and a breeze above you
are what you wake up to:

a branch cracks slow
and your eyes flash open,
the crisp sound lingers
like your hair matted when you move your head.

the room is empty.
go back to bed.