lysistrata

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters

Concrete eyes are sinking before me
I swim to some guarded shore
Whisky lips are stretched between words.

Chained hands are slicing future plans
I,left alone,dance from wall to wall
Concrete eyes are sinking before me.

Crippled legs are heading hip to hip,floor to floor
I whisper a Love song from a broken indoors
Whisky lips are stretched between words...

Comments3

  • Tony36

    Great write

  • Reivax Camlost

    The lament of one wishing for sleep to come, and bestow the mercy of escape from the weight of reality.

    Reminiscent, somewhat, of the way in which thoughts, words, sights, sounds, smells, and colors seem to become an ever-repeating montage of confusion, when one becomes fatigued enough.

  • Shahla Latifi

    Thank you for this lovely poem.



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