tiny, free-riding creatures
dancing in their clumsiness
to pass into the night-from-day
and their little claws,
their soft and subtle little paws
reach up, supplicating
innocently lay in waiting
until the moment when they
STRIKE
and snag hold of my eyelids
and they
Drag...
Drag...
My tiredness down
Across my vision
Like the final curtain
Of a weary play
And i let go
numbly
For almost a moment
In time
Before i
SNAP
Awake
And I trudge
Through ditches of sludge
The sluggishness
Of my wit
Light the room!
And throw the switch quickly,
For I see things
That are not there
That are invisible
Which I know.
Out the corner of my eye
Ghostly figures standing by
the
Entrance to my home
Only, I see not,
I feel them,
Their silent presence.
I am not crazy.
I am just
exhausted.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection 1.0
Poetrya collection of words attempting to capture just a bit of light, a touch of dark, and much of the Confused in between
