Stitches

[JoelJosol]

The crowing of the rooster fills my ears,

in a few more twist and turns daylight
will lit the pavement of a wandering

mind. Sleep slips away, unwilling to stop
or look behind, not one glance
at dark shadows from last night.

The ceiling is my projection screen,
to where the eyes throw the scenes,
familiar faces and dialogues streaming
like a downpour overwhelming sanity,
vanity, and drowning with fear, catching
breath- raise the hand, signal for help

but from what? From unrealities-

stitched to fix the holes of an existence,

to keep memories intact from spilling

onto the bed, disoriented from

restlessness, from the ticks of the clock,

from yet another morning.

 

 

My doctor ordered a one-week bed rest due to a viral attack in my system. That gave me an opportunity to write and visit this site again :-)

[David W. Parsley]

Nice to see you, Joel. Don't let too many of those viral images slip off the bed without finding their way into a nice little package like this.

 

- Dave

[Benjamin]

A nice balance of vowel sounds and sibilance... And a lucid familiarity for all insomniacs. I particularly liked the second verse. G

[JoelJosol]

Thanks Dave for the read. I am glad too I was able to find time to come back. Those viral images and words have been lingering for a while and I wondered if I should get up and write a poem :-)

 

Thanks Benjamin. It is really about insomniacs :-)