. . . Like Death August 23, 2o13

Friday,

   So here it is Friday morning 5 am and I haven't been to bed yet. Damn. So I thought I should probably get a new poem posted. maybe then I can sleep.

. . . Lie Death

 

I'm afraid to go to sleep.
These last three nights

your dream-self came to me
jabbering about something I did
along time ‘go— I can’t remember
what it was. I didn’t understand it then
when we were together, when I was
somewhat more . . . conscious.
Why would I remember now?
I truly believe asleep should be a sleep
like death with no surprising 
midnight visits from the ex.
—rrw o8-23-13 (Pic & Poem)