Sleep entices yet eludes me

Ruffling through the leaves
the wind sings it's soft song

Eyelids droop, I endure

Hangover 2

Headache, not so much
I drank until life seemed to move in fast forward.
God hit slow motion this morning.
random thoughts zipped through my mind,
now they trod through slowly,
every footstep makes an echo in my mind
like thunderclouds gathered in my head, rumbling,
a stampede of thought.
A pretty metaphor to say i'm thinking
I'm not, my mind is empty,
a blank wrinkled paper with a sticky tongue
snatching organized thoughts from the air
It took me 4 minutes to think of this line
How I define hung over

Mothers Day

Motherless, I celebrate nothing,
just another day I will try and re-
member how my mother looked,
laying beautifully in her coffin.
Too young, I bent to kiss goodbye

back where she is buried, air and
sun and the whispers of her voice
caress my face, the closest
I could ever feel to one I'd lost

Boredom

Oh my god, my mind isn't built for idle standing, listeing to nothing and hearing everything, waiting for anything that will get me to move. I could bleed tears of boredom without a second though to who would see them drip from my skin and pool on the floor, a resivoir of empty thoughts and lost ambitions. Work? This isn't work, it's childs play. It's mind games, mind fucks, social interactions i chose to ignore for my own well being. Why talk about philosaphy or the game or the pussy i got last week when I can bitch to myself on a piece of reciept paper.

In a chair, a window open wide
will qualify as outdoors-

gusting winds and brief drizzles
lock my cell door of doubt
the siren song of birds won't
lull me from self imposed prison

eyes can see the idle face,
gray storm clouds hover
the chimes of beckoning call me,
rung by the winds of deceit

A hummingbird might hover out-
side my open window ignored
blurs of blue and purple curiosity
beckon eyes that don't quite see