No Sleep

April 4, 2018 April 4, 2018

No Sleep short poem

Photo by Clearly Ambiguous


It’s a late night and I couldn’t
Sleep if I wanted to.
It’s dark out, and I’m afraid to think
Or dream about what I’ve been through.
What I have seen, What I have done.
Where I have been, and Who told me what.
I close my eyes
And shots ring out,
Taking away my breathe
Straight from my mouth.
Suffocating on my thoughts,
My heads spinning out
I’m drowning, I’m drowning
And nobody can help me get out.
Up late,
But I’m never up alone
My demons keep me company,
My head and heart are their home.
Creeping, and sneaking
Carrying around old bones
I can’t help but to think the only release is a quick flash
From a chrome to my dome.
There’s no rest for the wicked,
So I guess no sleep for me
Wicked in my heart,
Pumping evil with every beat.
It beats, it beats,
And again it beats.
Another late,
And again no sleep.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

No Roof For Reindeer

No Roof For Reindeer elegy

Page 1. the celebrated sailing frog from Montgomery County went a court’n, or so the tale iz toad to a grand ole mansion built around 1910, and e’en ‘pon being razed ~2012 ah no dummy sea worthiness still plainly showed,

Apathy No More

Apathy No More short poem

Clip not the wings of imagination Let it fly its uncharted way Yield now and then to temptation Let the spirit be free and gay Suit not the action to the image Fresh be your speech, and acts new How

No More

No More sonnet poems

I thought it belonged to only I, But you have claimed it for yourself. You say I should hurry up and die, That I’m only good for killing myself. I don’t wish to hear you, But you stole my hands.

No Rescue

No Rescue short poem

Civil war: Again you are visiting the childhood.A green pond. Smoke filled eyes ask, what was a home? A black city of white hills. You were climbing on dreams to reach a baby moon. And the night was very long,

No Return

No Return short poem

It was inheritance of age before the mirrors for the language of windows. The high rise buildings always cast a pall of gloom.earth seems to slide and I cannot reach the sky. I want to say what I did not