“My Tired”

“My Tired”

My tired stretches outward, and underwhelms.

Staunch narcoleptics, snoring pots and pans to beat the band.

Slumber robs youth of steady confidence.

Methodical metronome,

cadence of an old age home,

waiting to retire.

Sweaty yellow pillowcases carry the weight of the world.

Quiet, tenderest of moments, forgotten when memories are remembered.

Life, per seek, per chance, a dream of waking sleep.

Lost, recovered? Abruptly.

Dream-weaving steampunk.

Eyelids sealed, a treasure trunk.

Deep oscillating breath,

skirts the breadth of death.

“Lost”

“Lost”

I feel the confusion in your kisses.

Open mouthed and adrift.

A beauty when your sweaty,

you drive my madness swift.

A desert expedition,

a traveling caravan.

I’m a gypsy in your harem,

a crusader in your land.

Your heart is fixed in motion,

why the need, to act so cold?

a chance at your devotion,

is worth its weight in gold.

I huddle in a dungeon,

a prison meant to keep.

you liberate my passion,

and set my soul at ease.