A Sunday Run

A

Inside the eyelids, all at once i
own the infinity.
When i didn’t sleep,  i just
let my eyes fall…

only to watch them: color molecules
and flares

while i could never put names to any! As if they’re
no different from the primitive
syllables locked away in the Arctic
Damn. What kept these things to flicker?

A raindrop…

right here on the bridge of my nose. Soft as
a hangman’s fairytale kiss.
I didn’t wake up. Not even for the battalions going blitz on me

Lovely pill-popper (pop I);
virginal
capsules that could jump me to furthest cosmos (bob I)

but I lay here on this bench. And sleep couldn’t fill me like death…
Then I figured. somehow. The Flares.

primitive ghosts scraping through
my unprivileged

corpse.

2 comments

About This Site

Poetfreak is a social platform for poetry publishing where we focus on writing and reading poems, nothing else! It is powerful, growing, and creative. To share your poetry start with “Add New” button.