It may have been sleepwalking that brought me
To this place, pockets heavy and holed with keys
From every house I’ve dreamed myself in,
And scars across the backs of my hands from
My battles to escape their dark rooms when
Living in them became restrictive torture. It
May have been me rushing through emotions
With my eyes closed and looking only for
Touch and scent and passion to feed from.
When I wake, perhaps I’ll have the chance to
Do it all again in a much better way.
R 11/01/2013 07:17
It’s become about avoidance now, this
Sleepwalking through the mornings and
Most of the day without saying a word,
Without acknowledging the other person
In the same room with anything other than
A brief nod of the head, and leaving before
Anything resembling language surfaces in
Either if us, while putting ourselves in the
Mind of the other, an empathy of sorts under
The anger at what life has become for us.
At some point, the switch will be thrown.
R 11/01/2024 13:27
Today’s #MastoPrompt was #Sleepwalking. I find the prompt, if looked at first thing, and memorised, focuses the mind and allows the ideas to ferment short poems even when doing something else.
A very very busy day at day job. All creative endeavours pushed to one side, except for those two creations above. It is the nature of the beast. It always will be.