16 May, 2012 14:25

There are days when i cant speak
and in their nights, lack sleep.
Half in sheets, i lean on my bed:
pushing it to the wall,
stillness to achieve stiffness.
Stiffness to elude the old bed’s creak,
for in silence an old head leaks.
Listen closely you can hear.
A rythmic tap.
A consecutive beat
as my mind seeks more air:
more blood to think.
See whats there.
In vague pictures,
then words
then ink.



About kyoespeaks

“Write what should not be forgotten.” ― Isabel Allende View all posts by kyoespeaks

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