the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Cotton Clouds, Cotton Sheets

After slipping through the sheets of convenience,
Is it even worth making my bed?
I'm tearing the clouds that hang above my head.
This room,
Reduced to a blank template for death or brilliance.
As I strip off layers of time to a bare room,
A computer speaks again with low-fidelity warmth;
I remember this before,
When I drew circles on my eyes
So that everything would come together.
Now everything is slowing/breaking down
And the rest is torn apart.
It is the freshness of death
With the bet of a new start somewhere else,
With someone else's hindsight sitting on your shelf.

No comments: