• calm_chaos 11w


    @writersnetwork tankie lob������

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    I am painting my nights
    with happy lies and lying
    hopes, sowing sleeping
    pills on my insomniac
    anatomy and every time
    a plantlet of hypnagogia
    grows, my hallucinating
    nightmares swallow my
    eyelids off to bloom daturas
    of pessimism.
    My nights now look like
    red balloons, not the color
    of love but colored with
    the ichor of trust and faith,
    glistening with stars
    of betrayal and intensified
    with the swallowing of
    my moon by darkness.
    I feed my fireflies,
    nectar of nihilism so that
    they beget virtuosos of life
    and illuminate my path
    when I visit the dark and dank
    world of love again.
    While the meteors of reality
    weaves cacophonies for me
    in the loom of wisdom and
    throw them breaking my
    window pane every night,
    waking the unsleeping I.
    But I await, not for a dawn
    but for a sleep so serene,
    for the rebirth of my moon
    to sing me to sleep,
    cradle my anxious heart
    close to hers and when
    I drink numbness in my slumber,
    I shall puke breathing poesies
    for her eternally!