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Literature Text
Tonight, I am tired,
I am sleepy but can't close my eyes.
My mind is roaming,
my thought are overflowing.
Everything is alright,
that's what I thought in the dead of night,
so why can't I close my eyes ?
I can't sleep to my utter surprise.
I stopped the noise and all the music,
in hope to stay calm and not lose myself in panic
as my mind wandered into darker and darker thoughts
and with anxiety as their only fallout.
But my mind refused to stay empty,
I thought about doubts, deaths and misery,
about those I love but that I couldn't see
as life kept them away from me.
How could I sleep and rest peacefully
when worries grabbed onto me ?
As my mind was still filled of thoughts about tomorrow that might not come,
the morning sun finaly rose with the sleep that I welcomed.
I am sleepy but can't close my eyes.
My mind is roaming,
my thought are overflowing.
Everything is alright,
that's what I thought in the dead of night,
so why can't I close my eyes ?
I can't sleep to my utter surprise.
I stopped the noise and all the music,
in hope to stay calm and not lose myself in panic
as my mind wandered into darker and darker thoughts
and with anxiety as their only fallout.
But my mind refused to stay empty,
I thought about doubts, deaths and misery,
about those I love but that I couldn't see
as life kept them away from me.
How could I sleep and rest peacefully
when worries grabbed onto me ?
As my mind was still filled of thoughts about tomorrow that might not come,
the morning sun finaly rose with the sleep that I welcomed.
Akai Yari
Literature
stonemaze
sometimes, I pretend
our home is tinnitus
I scrape pine needles
into a horizontal bowl.
twisted scenery
settling in like snow
inside my finger
bones, stirring
up sparks. he
may be the last
explosive, a
fire fight that bites
through my palms;
may be the last
crackling
monolith to collect
spacedust on
his loneliness.
I should be left alon
Literature
softened
the sky whispers,
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
alone.
in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
raven,
black as night and
just as hopeful.
and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.
I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
me.
Literature
Loving a Writer
When you read their work –
and it is work,
and you will often come second to the job –
it’s best to know which pieces are fictions,
which ones are wishes,
and which parts are for you.
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This happened to me a week ago, as it sometimes happens, I have some anxiety crisis sometimes, but this time around I had nothing to occupy my mind with and couldn't sleep. I got to sleep finally at 7 am with the sun already high in the sky, I hope not to experience that again.
Comments are always welcomed.
Comments are always welcomed.
Comments7
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This is every night for me...until 3-4 in the morning, then fall asleep, wake up at 5...sleep again. I love the poem though.