Sleep, never-ending consciousness,
thunder, spray dashing against
the windowpane, in the distance
railroad cars, clang, clang, clang
Sleep, gulls screaming float through
the air, wild and free, diving into
the frothy white waves, living without
Sleep, ghost trampling upon the mind
and soul, brushing shoulders with
death they surge across time wanting
their story told.
Sleep, wanting the body to relax, flip
right, flip left, the noise of the world
springs from every nerve, wistfully let
there be silence, calmness come back,
come back, come back.
Sleep, brooding, daggers in the back, rise,
dress, the night will never be soothing.
those words in the head keep moving,
mind in a rage sitting silently staring at
the blank page.
The mind locked in a writer’s block,
the page is blank, time is slowly
moving forward, as the writer stares
at the face of the old wind-up clock.
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