My Nirvana T.N

Sleep Heals
Sleep hurts
Sleep is my switchblade knife
with a handle, nothing more than a sharper edge
the harder i hold to it
the more I bleed

The moment my head retires to the pillow
the blood begins to pool in my brain

This is when I feel my ever nostalgic mind
Frantically clinging
to the past

Grasping desperately for something no longer existent

I reminisce
I digress
I slip slowly into my 8 hour coma
My Nirvana

1 Comments:

Anonymous said...

I found this poem really interesting. It had powerful words and imagery. I liked how sleeping and dreaming is related to something spiritual.