I want to be asleep
and I've been trying to get there
I close my eyes and wait
but the chance of REM seems rare
Another hour passes and
I'm still watching Blanche go on dates
It seems yet another episode
of the Golden Girls is my fate
I don't know how much more of
this rhyming I can do
and the cacophony of snoring loves
Oh! to be asleep like you!
So I write a funny poem
words with rhythm and rhyme
and later in the morning I'll see them
those bags under my eyes.
I can't guide your conscience I can't help you choose I don't want to talk about how this is sure to see my life improve I can't hear about it I'm sick to death of it Just... don't suggest I'm not in
The sky is clear at 5am It's not really 5am yet, Still actually 4:08am Daylight savings only began in the past 48 hours, It doesn't count The sky is clear, inky, luminescent and deep and like a silky
I woke before the sun rose today, my heart felt the intense weight of all the moments that the 25th of April marks, before my body had even begun to stir. For all the Blakfellas who were sent to fig