I'm tired and can't make sense out
of years of not sleeping.
what do you mean they were days?
Nothing lucky about 7 tonight.
I'm wrapped up in yesteryear's
swaddling
bury me warm
by the ocean.
A beautiful sound
the water on sand.
And the moon is up now
and my skin is pale glowing.
Tired now, of years of unthinking
and where have I been
and why is it hurting?
No space left for
thinking
eat
sleep
drink
be merry.
Ho Ho Ho
set up baby Jesus
in his little glass manger
Mary's so pretty
the barn is so tidy.
A man fell asleep on me
on the 7 tonight.
Some lucky number.
He only grunted when
I shoved.
Invisible woman
with coals
for eyes
and a button nose.
No time for presents.
Is it warm there in winter?
Could we get away for awhile?
I want to go.
I WANT TO GO.
Island of the misfit
toys with the idea
of sand in December.
Fuck I've got to get sleep.
Fuck I've got to stop saying
Fuck.
Merry Christmas to all and
to all a goodnight.
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3 comments:
let's go.
sometimes i think the best thing in the world would be to just leave wherever i am and go lay in warm sand for a solid week. no one is a misfit toy under a palapa. so many funny, tangled meanings in this one, i like it.
ps, you're about to be a published author.
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