Get Your Premium Membership

Day Sleeper

Lost out of the picture,
fallen out of life,
cut-eyed shut down

from all the cars and trains
and all this carrying and breaking
and lines of words without spaces.

You breathe softly, regular,
as if in a deep wood,
as paced as a slow piston

in exile to yourself,
a half life turned inside

as if the strings that
could lift you
hang loose in the sunlight.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things