No. Sadness can never be understood. Nor bliss if it's any good. For humans have very short working memories for lessons learned. Each day breaks and I scoot off. Down the dark roads, to work. The moral triumphant call will claim the stakes for each blessed day. Keeping me distracted from Pain's gateway. Yes, Sleep is back to taunt me as I tire away, waving her arms to say, "Nay! NAY!" Yet another day.
I often toil till dark and make it all worth it.
Is this a soldier's slay? Of being kept awake and separated from slumber's bay? Why can't I have a moment of glory to claim my prize- sleep for a day? So it goes on and on and on... These disconcerted thoughts float on by. It is how the brainworks grind. It's alright at some point to curse and withdraw. I imagine being given sticks to pick and I end up with the trick! The shortest draw! That is why I am the joker always around in this bloody game of POKER! Don't blame me if I get grouchy for I have NEVER been less sober. If only one could get drunk on minutes over and wait for time to take OVER! DAMN IT.
Sleep and I have never been friends, no.
It is Hell invited for a sleepover. You can say a true-blue spanner in the works! Gees. So it is back to toy-soil day at the break of day. Heaven or hell hard to tell as it gets all mushy for me. I tried Regression Therapy once. It is no good. It is plain simple. I feel like I am some stooge. I walk to life's plane and I can see it at a go. Yes, lots to salute to and frankly, I don't know. Only the sleepless will understand how tired and drained I am, on this endless ride on a friesbee. I feel tossed and tossed all over, but the game is never over. It does get exciting but it can never be THAT inviting. Maybe at some point, this fanfare of sorts will come to an end. But when?
An Immortal Slayer
- Written by Zany Lynn
- Category: Poetry
- Hits: 846