I would like to sleep forever,
which may not be good.
I would like to sleep,
forever. I would like to sleep
alone, to regain
the energy that depression
has taken from me
by laying on fuzzy and threadbare
sheets of varying hues of blue
with a coat of cat hair & a mess of books
strewn haphazardly and left overturned,
untouched by a muted passion
I would like to take a small
pill, white and bitter, the one
cure that would save me
from the misery at the center
of my mind, from the misery
at the center. I would like to believe
my mom's advice as the
truth & future
that will be waiting for me
lovingly, a promise
not prescribed nor bottled
in the orange plastic resting
beside my bed, waiting for me
to wake up to take it again
I would like to be the energy
that invigorates me for a moment
only. I would like to be that useful
& that wanted.
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a/n: Inspired by Margaret Atwood's Variation on the Word Sleep
Not sure how I feel about this one. It's an older poem of mine, but I still think it fails to do Atwood's poem any justice.
YOU ARE READING
A Mind Beneath the Waves
Poetry"I was seven. You were sixty-something. Of the three of us -- you, me, and the alligator -- I'm likely the only one alive." ☾✩☽ "... indigo velvet curling around you. Sleek and electric blue, you stand wreathed in flowers" ☾✩☽ "...I would like...
