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bastards get no sleep

Poetry By: Frank Watts
Poetry


insomnia, death.


Submitted:Feb 10, 2009    Reads: 48    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


all of us

are rotting

getting old

decomposed

and dying

each breathe

you take

time has raped

there is

no sense

in crying.

vanity, you do

like all the fools

to show and

prove your

sense of sanity

heaven or hell

who can tell

whether

no one

is having me

neither

the masquerade

a dancing plague

on my brain

thats stabbing me

lies on

the tip

of your tongue

like a snake

you will praise

the barrel

of my gun

happily

while tobacco clouds

sprout around

us bastards

as we weep

laughing as

dark skies pass

undetectedly

my lacking in sleep

is recklessly

unrelentingly tangling

up my sheets

most definitely

indiscreet

wide eyed dreams

grabbing at my seams

pulling me to

a road closer

to home

then I really

need to be.

who scared you?

said

the dead

man

in the back

of my head

dont be so blue

just because the

things they

said wasnt true

each day

you awake

theres bound

to be something new

so

I shook his hand and

called a truce

I looked away

from the mirror

to tie his noose

and we hanged.





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