Inside I was crying
and also grieving.
After tossing and turning,
And after much squirming,
In my heart, like times before,
Everything about me longed to go.
I sincerely tried to fine a way,
But circumstances forced us to stay.
So, in summer '26, we did not have a vacation.
Instead, we relaxed and settled for a staycation.
Nightmares driving me insane subconscious images are invading my brain
As I sleep constantly fighting my dreams
Silent on the outside no-one hears my screams
Sheet soaked with sweat mixed with my tears
My dreams seem to bring to me all my fears
Tossing and turning awakening with a start
The darkness loudly echoes the beat of my heart
Nightmares of monsters nightmares of pain the same nightmare that comes again and again
The nightmare is over as night turns to day
The sunlight takes the monsters away
As the day goes by I'm filled with dread
Because the nightmares are waiting for me in my head
ALL the flipping,
tossing and turning,
sand turning black
then red at dawn;
still yawning.
The cock crowing;
sun and moon avoid
my half-open trance.
My crescents ache
from the webbed glass
in the lacrimal corners.
Shadows creep,
reflections of my BOO.
I try to force
my opponent
feet over head,
so I can go back to bed.
Goblin of a sandman
is giggling,
crooning creepy songs.
Dusk breaks and I
hit the Boogieman
full force with his own
container of grit;
I pass out.
As I awaken,
with a blazing grin,
I shine the hourglass,
so peacefully at rest.
there’s a man in a suit clutching his sanity
there’s a man wearing sandals and gripping the clay
there’s a wild, brewing, undying calamity
there’s a part of him that knows that this isn’t the way
as he’s dipping his fingers into the basin
the sensual shaping of a vase or a plate
something miraculous about his creation
something that tells us this man will be great
flaunting his hands to all of the peasants
he makes them beg for a dime of his time
they’re shaking with rage while they wait for his presence
how can it enrage you if it is divine?
there’s a girl at the easel with soot on her face
she’s stood still like a madman, just scribbling away
i hate her for being and taking up space
but there’s nothing that could make my hatred okay
and yet it persists, yet it’s still there
i dream of her failing and failing again
i look at her art, i compare and compare
and then i’m too scared to pick up my pen
i’d like to crack open her skull and just take a bite
let me worry about the tossing and turning
it won’t matter that i can’t sleep in the night
if i’m busy creating, if i’m too busy working
Of course a long night
followed a long day
of not feeling my best
with a migraine
Tossing and turning
stomach rolling,
head pounding
thoughts racing
My body craved rest,
so eventually I slid into
sleep, but dreamed odd dreams
and woke up exhausted
When the body is weary
the mind is dull, so this
should be an interesting day
but I am taking one step at a time
Analyzing life
Wondering why
Anquishing past choices
Kringing at every noise
Eternally tossing and turning
Every night as i'm laying in my bed
These uneasy feelings surround me
I feel the strangeness of them all around
And though i look there's nothing I can see
All night they have me tossing and turning
Making it impossible for me to go to bed
Relentlessly these feelings torment me
By putting thoughts of you inside my head
I grab the phone and dial your number
And listen, and hope you pick up the phone.
I need to talk to you i need your help
You can control these things i'm not shown
As we talk these feelings leave me be
I let you know i can't wait to see you again
And I hope the love you have for me
It's strong enough to make it until then
We tell each other how much we care
As well as how much the others missed
And when our conversation has ended
Our phones are the ones that get kissed
I listen as you slowly hang up your line
That's my sign to hang up the telephone
That's when the feelings swarm on back
I guess it's only the feeling of being alone
Tossing and turning all night
recently had the strangest dreams
recalling them in broad daylight
don’t know what they mean
wrecked by a stacked deck
of bottom-dealt cards
I was under the gun
attacked by a pack of hungry wolves
had me on the run
lost in the woods and couldn't see
the forest for all the trees
mocked by a flock of tar-black crows
had me on my knees
and tho' the Gods may be crazy
staring out from on high
they do look after their own it's true
for drunkards children and fools such as I
The texture of those black out curtains,
a whistle that ruffles your hair.
Tickling all of your senses
with a shoulder massage.
Tossing and turning
rolling with the
cotton ghosts
through the
night.
Have you ever been
haunted (no you have not)
by a ghost from the future not even born yet
in your paper thin realm
trolled from a time post human extinction
it could only happen to you so-called
dead in your grave still tossing and turning
& scratching like a deviant
moldering and unquiet one hundred years now
and the whispers yes whispers from
the parallell (this is how we spell it now)
corridoor (see previous) keeping you
a-threshold in your very well deserved
sempiternal shelf of discomfort
Out here bebee the fourth dimension
swings in ways you cannot conceive so
don't test your pretty lil head
much of which is mush and thistle
but! you may be due compensation
for the futurama funnel imposition
a leakage episode beyond apology
under section bla bla
please submit your claim within 30 days
via the usual medium and
we shall endeavour to ensure
requiem aeternam thus ceasing
your infernal insomnia
yours the 3am committee
As the last of the day’s clouds disappeared,
The moon, like a guard, boldly appears.
Shining her soft glow over everything
in a single sweep.
Tired souls miss it all, for in the
silence of the night, tired souls crave sleep.
Flickering and dancing like fireflies, thoughts unfurl,
Some into nightmares and some
into dreams,
Tired souls become entangled in a
trance,
Tossing and turning, losing their
stance.
Unable to find peace, unable to heal,
In the silence of the night, hearts race.
As if from a fight, sweat drips from the face.
In the silence of the night, to a tired
soul, everything feels so surreal.
By Zyrool
Guess I'm soul searching she's on my mind
with a heart that is hurting must have been blind
I wander these streets where we walked together
but places we'd meet are now stranger than ever
I think of those days gone by
and can't help but wonder why
I'm tossing and turning time on my hands
with a heart that is burning don't understand
I sleep in this bed we we lay as lovers
but things we once said she now whispers to others
and I dream of those nights they're past
and I can't help but have to ask
how could something so right turn out so wrong
why should something so good only last for so long
like a love left behind so was this heart of mine
soul'd out
A balance in life can solve the riddle.
To find the balance, start in the middle.
Distractions from the banks may lead us wrong.
Go with the flow where the current is strong.
The banks are sirens calling to our ears,
offering us pleasures relieving fears.
The emotion of love, the fear of pain,
tossing and turning, driving us insane.
Too much pleasure can lead to addition,
pain and sickness can lead to restriction.
Reject their temptations, stay in the flow,
the river is wise and knows where to go.
Avoid extremes, be content with enough.
Life on the river, no need for the fluff.
I have a lot on my mind lately and no one to talk to
I have a ton of reasons why I’m tired of life but I was taught to keep your head up
I can only control what I can control
Everything else I’m learning to let it go
God works in mysterious ways and he always comes through for me
Every night I crawl in my bed
I allow my brain to go empty
No worries and no stress
I’ll just lay here in this bed until I have to get up again
All I ever want in life is to win and succeed at everything
Sometimes I allow things to eat me alive
A lot of times I hold so much in but when I hit that pillow
There’s only tossing and turning going on
Thankfully my brain is not on and I can breathe again
Sometimes to relief myself I need to think of nothing
Why do we make beds?
Every night I get back in.
Slide into sheets cool and thin.
Strech out across the bed,
Tossing and turning,
Even my head.
My bed is so neat and clean,
My Momma makes my bed,
Probably so I can dream.
Every day I jump right up,
Ready to leap for joy.
Except for the day Momma said she would teach me to make my bed!
Momma said, " Make your bed,
So, it's ready when you lay your head."
I don't get how the sheets do lay,
How the corners get tucked,
And stay that way.
So, waiting until Momma leaves the room,
Flip sheets and blankets up to the moon.
Smooth blankets across it all.
Look from across the hall,
The wrinkles are covered,
And out of sight.
Momma won't see it until tonight.
Making beds was never my skill,
Until I learned a new way.
Gives me such a thrill!
Simply sleep on top.
At the break of day,
Leap up!
Smooth a few wrinkles out,
The bed is made for a week or a day!
Momma was very proud.
She said I learned fast to make my bed every day!
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