cookin the brain

from tdemp - Thursday, July 11, 2002
accessed 1389 times

this I wrote while burning through a 108 fever......hella sucked, but Im still alive. no thanks to god.

The craze of night, the terrors delight. That makes a man quiver in shame. If I knew a place that could cure all my pain, that’s where I’d spend the night. These voices here, so distinctly clear. Telling me to rise to the light. How come I can’t stand, my face in my hand. It’s slowly chanting my name.

Oh this sweet winters high, how I dare not sigh. When the last of the coals drift to resting. How can I be sad when my mind is not mad? Won’t be long till my permanent flight. From this perilous night of tossing and turning one way to the next, may I please hear my sorrow is resting.

I sit pensive trying to sleep. While my mind clouds my body with curses. Oh why cant I sleeplike a little lost sheep, oh why do I reel and wind. To put it to bed while my head is like lead and the throbbing grows endless and tiring.

I hope for your sake this is not a mistake or I might just go out to fly. To drift from it all, my parents appalled at the sight of this disfigured person. Like a thief in dark clothes, I remain indisposed while my brothers go traipsing in darkness. Why can’t I be sane like a cheap rubber chain. Oh I wish I could hand you my person. But ill put him to bed with a hole in his head. To steady his ranting and ravings.

Up away now I go with nothing to show but my poor boorish thoughts down on paper. If it makes no sense its because it was meant for a desperate depraved sort of person.

The meadow of dreams calls me to sleep where I drift on endless awakening.