I sleep often. though I do not rest.
These nights where dreams are much too faraway. My mind heavy , an overload of events that re-calculate the consistancy of night time. I have taken on a different form. Attempting at this teepee with four sticks and a sheet.
Making a home out of bundled up down trods in faith. Reinventing the baseboards with story.
Am i making sense?
Instable.  
I often wonder, if you met me now,would you notice? All the underflecks of grey that threaten to storm out my stares.
Would you still claim to know me?
Anyone honest can be a poet.
simply graffiti the fine print. A layout of all the detail that goes un noticed.
Sign your name at the bottom.
I want you to be unhappy when i'm not around.
I am asking too much.          You tell me this.
I'm a little bit crazy but i counted on you liking it.
you give me something to look forward to.Drunk off your presence. Softly inhaling the smell of your body that rushes off of you in waves. Lit up by the blue light on your phone. Another girl calling, remembering how good you make her feel.
I could care less. There is no need to know her name.
She calls for the same reasons i won't.
       .slippery.               You are drowning me.
 
I tiptoe through these nights,undoing myself over and over.
Very soon now, I will understand what it is to breathe underwater.      Impossibilities such as this should never be tried on for a stranger.
nearing an end.              ."We" are. nearing an end.
Yes
I want to remember this as if it happened to someone else.  

--Last edited by Junebug on 2007-12-02 01:20:17 --

Very good poem. Anyone honest can be poet. Every word here, with energy and depectible emotion seems honest.  

--Last edited by MeCh on 2007-12-02 22:30:11 --

What's that supposed to mean?
"Seems honest?"
I don't break down your poetry for fact and fiction.

It was a compliment.  

oh.okay.  My bad. Took you the wrong way.