SLEEP

I seem so out of societal loving surmise, crows scavenge with the beak of deathly suffice, nostalgia whispers crude images of hurtful chances, my impression broken and crippled from the modernity stances.

There I lay visiting scenes of hopeful acception, but to you windows spin of ones mindful perception, complex gazes swoon loving hearts, but doubt can arise from our broken parts.

We were the guided few so intangible like sunrise’s sky, now my future collapses as in the bed I lie, nervous for the dark like a child who’s mother turns off the lights, bewilderment sighs as time rocks me to smiling brighter sights.

Only things of happy accord sharpen the realistic pain, but forget the past as like reverie I stay forgotten sane, sleep is fantasy for my approving desires, to me there are no towering binding wires.

I know the style of when to paint a recollection, in a blurry perplexing talk of hopeful connection, underneath the white cloudy deceiving charm, is a restive mind of multiplying harm.

Voices go according to my sensible disclose, skipping now I panic as the weeping man tearfully sews, keep me here is the pleading cry of showering doubt, but nothingness vanishes as has my immanent shout.

Keep me tied to this momentary idea of place, holding hands temporally through continual space, black hands seize the grasp of false bliss, to awake from love with a weighing kiss.

Looking to the clock I sigh as you stay in the dream, but to wait another day is the  forever recurring theme, time sails past the deterioating aspirational leap, I enter oblivion with you as I gently voluntarily sleep.

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3 thoughts on “Nostalgic Poetry

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