Random jumble bumble poem
Time stopped for the clock on the wall.
But I know it's 3:45 am.
Every one's in bed.
Every one's resting their heads to dream.
TV's still on but the volume's down.
Red haired host keeps my feel like I'm not alone.
The lights are beginning to dull,
but I'm still wide awake.
The Working Title sings me to sleep,
while I try to find A Mary Getaway.
No luck tonight.
I'll just try again tomorrow.
French tongue sooths my ears,
Ondul'e,
pixels blare against my eyes.
Heaviness weighs down on the crown of my head.
Yes, I'm tired again.
What else is new in the world?
Diary waits with it's pages empty.
Stomach begs me not to feed it.
Hip-hop signed off,
and my space is dull.
Nothing new for Beautifully Undone,
except for the figmative, Matt.
Pictures tell a thousand words.
All a lie?
*sigh*
The only thing left to do is shine my pearly whites.
Slip into something more comfortable.
Re-play Wednesday's events.
Maybe Tuesday's as well.
But I'll fail to get them all in.
I'll drift before I finish.
Go to sleep Thursday.
Get up Thursday with 10 hours in between.
Poem won't make sense.
It makes sense to me.
Volume's still down, host is still talking.
Like mimes in the TV set.
Faces lacking white paint and tear drops..
Lights are still on in the kitchen.
Hall way too.
Crazy politician's dancing on the tube,
my eyes fog with lack of Z's.
Questions ring clear,
why?
Still up this late at night?
I nod to the screen.
Type the out of order keys with my finger tips.
Good night cyber space.
Good night Conan O'Brien.
Good night Lime Wire.
Good night Myspace.
Good night, 3 am.
Good night world.
I'm just getting sleepy.
But I know it's 3:45 am.
Every one's in bed.
Every one's resting their heads to dream.
TV's still on but the volume's down.
Red haired host keeps my feel like I'm not alone.
The lights are beginning to dull,
but I'm still wide awake.
The Working Title sings me to sleep,
while I try to find A Mary Getaway.
No luck tonight.
I'll just try again tomorrow.
French tongue sooths my ears,
Ondul'e,
pixels blare against my eyes.
Heaviness weighs down on the crown of my head.
Yes, I'm tired again.
What else is new in the world?
Diary waits with it's pages empty.
Stomach begs me not to feed it.
Hip-hop signed off,
and my space is dull.
Nothing new for Beautifully Undone,
except for the figmative, Matt.
Pictures tell a thousand words.
All a lie?
*sigh*
The only thing left to do is shine my pearly whites.
Slip into something more comfortable.
Re-play Wednesday's events.
Maybe Tuesday's as well.
But I'll fail to get them all in.
I'll drift before I finish.
Go to sleep Thursday.
Get up Thursday with 10 hours in between.
Poem won't make sense.
It makes sense to me.
Volume's still down, host is still talking.
Like mimes in the TV set.
Faces lacking white paint and tear drops..
Lights are still on in the kitchen.
Hall way too.
Crazy politician's dancing on the tube,
my eyes fog with lack of Z's.
Questions ring clear,
why?
Still up this late at night?
I nod to the screen.
Type the out of order keys with my finger tips.
Good night cyber space.
Good night Conan O'Brien.
Good night Lime Wire.
Good night Myspace.
Good night, 3 am.
Good night world.
I'm just getting sleepy.