Bloodshot eyes are distracted by darknessRefusing to close for more than a momentWhile a restless heartbeat pounds steadfastFrom thoughts in a mind anything but dormantSilence makes the wall clock thunderMillions of crickets’ whispers turn to shrillsUnsure hands play love hate with blanketsAs the body switches from sweat to chillsA crumpled face begs for sweet slumberHeld ransom by some tickled fiendWith a pinch of sand in steady fingersEach minute, a stolen dream
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Can't Sleep
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