Sleepless
I have trouble sleeping when the nights are too quiet.
I feel I can hear for miles, but also hear nothing.
I get no crystal dust from the stars.
What are the good of them then? They're there
just for show like some tacky rhinestones on an
old woman's sweater. The two sparkling eyes of the puppy, as she choaks to death on her red lipstick stained cigarette.
I'm so done with artificial nights. I can't sleep.
I get no rest. I catch the slight scent of car exhaust from the street
below. Those people can't sleep either. Maybe I'll dress and
join them in their night time wanderings.
Where are you going?
Who knows? You don't. You can't sleep like me, and just go searching
all the corners of this city, just to find a place to get some rest.
It sometimes never comes, don't it? Let's just go to bed together then.
Your place or mine?