The numbers on the clock dance in my mind,
Heavy sounds whisper in bass
thumping the floating ideas...
And like paper it tears,
tears the sane skin right off the bones,
It blends into slates, this clock's segmented squares,
three or four squares that combine 5's,2's, and 8's.
Digital time is far too precise,
My pocketwatch reads more quickly,
tricks this Sleepless with a fluid doppleganger,
its life depends on my twisting fingers,
And the ceiling fan is shut off, but winding,
Like the gears in the grandfather, garrily grinding,
And like tired scorpions, dry eyes find sanctuary in shade,
The air is a sponge, and vision wells run dry, lie afraid.
For the madman has kidnapped Misery,
Tied her to the rails and tracks,
Left her heavy burden for my eyelids,
And served the will to which her name will act.
And in this dark room everything is bathed in color,
Hades fireworks burst with rusted blood crawling down the walls,
Bid the light move and the shadows follow,
Wave your hand and the away will fly the last swallow.
So let me whisp away on the tufts of madness,
chemical sleep is hellish,
The red beast will return, but it's still better than my own imagination.
Let me prematurely apologize to Apathy and your brother Logic,
I lost your invitations to this party.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/12/2011 12:02AM by Fickledlife.
I finally found a way to structure these things as i would like! hope its an improvement
oh my. you have a fan. especially for your imagery. but also for the way this read out loud.
Thanks, keep at it,
amo et avanti, Fickledlife,
Glad to know my now gone insomnia was useful for something.