A falling out with my head. -------------------------------------------
They only warm up when they're wet.
And then you fall asleep when they're even colder than they were before.
You wake up and have to peel your face from the crusty pillow.
And as you wash the salt deposits from your pores you're reminded of every time you fucked up.
It's better not to sleep, than to lie awake getting more frustrated as the clock changes hours...over...and over...and over again.
Sleep deprivation gives you a much better insanity than the agitated circles your brain runs on.
At least then you know you have a reason to not control which ruts it decides to bounce along.
Sure it gets annoying seeing people that aren't there, or hearing things that no one else can.
But birds and cars sound a lot less pissed off than your own destrudo going off the charts.
It's the choice between an unwatched cell with a dirty mirror to keep you company, or living inside of a children's television series.
You know the kind.
Where the host perfectly fits the profile of a pedophile, and teenagers only watch it for the subtle signs of schizophrenia and innuendo.
I think we both know what the better choice is.
At least we get a few laughs from knowing that the man on the screen is going to be raped in the ass when he finally gets sent to prison.
I apparantly can't even prevent myself from commenting your poems. Almost everyone I read I have something to say. Another free verse, without any form, any meter, any rhyme, or even any major poetic devices at all, and yet, it flows perfectly. The overall theme, the thought processes contained, are simply amazing. I can follow you through this, and can relate so much it's eerie, you bring a cold, almost optimistic twist to your own pessimism (yah thats an oxymoron, so what). Your writing is just so REAL, how do you do it?