Not Asleep
Picking up where we left off among the stains and stable troughs my hand becomes
a path into my veins
And if I manage to shake off this dredge in which I walked across the longest bridge
and toppled off like rain
But saints and saintly sinners cracking smiles and pointing fingers washing stains
from the windows painted red
Will try but quickly failing, to stay awake I'm sailing out this waking nightmare aching
twitching bed
My shadow has a name and a stately white horse figure clutch me closely breathe
your gold inside of me
For if I fall profusely, make sure to not refuse me one more wisping float atop the
sparkling sea
And all the times I scream and shout inside my head not coming out my mouth the
way it crawled across my eyes
And every time that I want out each door beside me spewing grout reminds me that
this hallways' a disguise
So lying here my belly aches grinding false bicuspids shake my head falls off and
rolls under this bed
Leaning sideways looking round I notice that this filthy ground is no more less or
more than what's been said
So everything is every thing and all the things are everything and everything but
nothing will delude
And so my time spent rummaging in other's rooms beneath their feet they never
woke and here I must conclude
Copyright © Ian Phillips | Year Posted 2011
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