Friday, February 16, 2007


I can’t help but staying up later and later,
Because I take home exactly what I reap,
Repeating mistakes for unknown reasons,
One of the main problems why I can’t sleep,

My shorter distorted dreams seem to be sorted,
Intermixed with my indecent recent memories,
Up wondering, if disturbed blurred stories happened,
Or just torn bits forged from my actual history,

With subtle slipping self-respect I inspect,
Each decision by dissecting in pieces the wrong,
Time holds for no man while constantly crawling,
Blending the full moon into the rising dawn,

I am a fool pondering if I could honestly possibly live,
My last years without goals or without any hunger,
So, I sit and reminisce on times I’ve slipped, dwelling,
Not on the sun I see, but the on rock I’m under,

Procrastination clouds a once vivid imagination,
Which somehow guides my current direction?
So, I don’t make any ground just walking around,
In circles, not forward, towards the next intersection,

So here, I lie with my dog and cat on my side,
Desperately trying to catch the sandman’s attention,
But like my wish dodges does he my earnest plea,
To send sweet release within his dreamy submission.

by R. Alton

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