The Leather Bound

The Leather Bound
Of thoughts and genius

Monday, February 1, 2010

Poems as a journaling expression of insomnia

Can’t sleep

My thoughts have taken me away

The past is my present and ever reoccurring dream

You crept your way in, I wonder how you managed

Sultry like the wind, fascinating like the sound

Yet my idle heart still races

I'm anxious; can’t sleep

How long will this day last

My bed cold and cozy

Sheets filled with ice and dread

Sleep waiting for me

Somewhere I cannot meet

The pills and drugs that have lead me once

Now lulling in my blood

My thoughts and wants and lust all mixed

I'm like an accordion of complaints

Restless heart

Ruthless stress

Desire to its undying need

To pleasure myself is a boring occasion

One that has past and went

I searched for a muse so many times before

Found only what I had already used

Now with your eyes inside my thoughts

I can only write these lines

Do they tempt me, do they mock?

Have I found a reason?

I feel no such luck

And for that sickness

Cause I am doomed to sleeplessness


April 18, 2008 1:15am



You sonovabitch

You open the list of my to-dos and show what I have been anticipating.

Fuck! I know that already. I’m gettin’ to it.

You turn the page to a chapter I just forgot because I loved it too much.

God dammit! I hate when it hurts.

You show me the map of the circles I’ve taken.

It’s so scary when you’re lost. I cry out over and over:

Please help me! I am so lost and I cannot find my way.

You tear open my dresser, the top drawer to all my intimacies and lust.

What the fuck are you looking at?

You count the pages and minutes, reporting over and over in my head.

Jesus Christ, I can’t do this.

You bastard, that voice.

You creature, that choice.

You clever little fuck.

How can I reclaim my mind?

You helped me destroy my path, no, cover it in leaves and mess.

I’m trying to clean it up.

You told me to trust you, but it was hard to hear clearly over myself.

How can I have told myself this?

Fuck. Defeat. King me. Check mate. Call it on the bored. I loose this round.

What’s next.


February 11, 2009 12:50am

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