Ommmmmmg! I'm in a good mood for the first time in about 2 weeks! Cray cray innit? I wrote this poem off the bat and haven't had time to look over it properly - I did not realise how late the hour. So yeah, I think it might be a bit odd, but really, that's kind of my speciality, so I suppose things are just moseying along nicely. I also think it's not quite finished, but I AM stupidly tired just now, probably because I've got SWINE FLU or some other retro illness that everyone has forgotten about.
Hope you're all in good spirits. Let's just really try to end war, yeah?
Day 34.
On the Requirement of Sleep
When they
said, “What do you know about birds?”
it felt like
an accusation.
I told them
I didn’t know anything,
that
whatever birds were mixed up in,
it had
nothing to do with me.
I hadn’t
seen birds in years;
we move in
different circles.
I took out a
pen and a city emerged from the tip.
I said, “This
is where we’ll all live one day,
when the
heat leaves for a better party.”
And they
said, “If you can only see life
through a
square window,
how do you
ever expect to be anything but square?”
They had me
on the ropes.
I realised we were at sea.
They handed
me a telescope and said,
“What’s that
on the horizon?”
I fell, eye
first, through the slim brass tube,
the scent conjuring
hours spent
desperately trying
not to eat dirt.
At the end
of it, I saw a little grey man.
“It’s sleep!”
I cried. “He’s coming this way!”
And so he
was, rippling, like a punch in slow motion.
“He doesn’t
want to see you,” they said.
“Your heart
rate is disrespectful.
Your name is
all you have left.”
My face
fell, splitting into exactly one million pieces,
scattering like
a handful of chickenfeed.
