Every Day that Dies
It was all in his hands
Even my life, he had it
Me? rudderless, unseen
Dangerous were the days
I took comfort in the waiting
Tomorrows wouldn't have a meaning
Without the waiting
Living dangerously became the comfort
Time glided by like it fell from a dump truck
Clump, the days and nights fell
These are the minutes that grind me down
I light and spark. No relief
Invisible, I flip the pages of a catalog
No one knows I want it all to cover me
Not another emotion
Sun is on the far corner
I set out the Moonstones' manifest
and glorious colors Kundalini
Beautiful serpent rise
Bring me up
Sage burning in four corners
My magic plants, in vapors
Tricks of the parlor trade suffice
It all washes safely down
With the cheapest whiskey
"Every day that dies
Is a celebration of death"
"Let us live this life
And drink to these illusions
And pass the Golden Goat"
Sleep dealer, I'm waiting
BRENDA ARLEDGE from Washington Court House on September 05, 2020:
Restless nights often blend into another day.
Whiskey sometimes helps but often just makes one toss and turn a bit longer.
But oh...to get that needed sleep would be wonderful.
I would love to accomplish instant sleep when my head hit that pillow.
Linda Kloss (author) from Corpus Christi on April 24, 2020:
Thanks, insomnia driven.
Eric Dierker from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A. on April 24, 2020:
Wow this is interesting. A lot of thoughts going on.