Sleep (Side-tracked)
26th June 2022 (inspired by an unfinished poem 10th August 2011)

Sleep comes in stealth,
a law to itself
arrives in a mist,
where I don’t exist.

A concoction of spells,
of warped parallels,
side-tracks not real,
in which I heal.

I have felt the warm sun on my face,
speeding cars, I need to chase,
gargantuan waves that threaten to engulf,
crushing panic, no sense of self,
labyrinth buildings and a tropical island,
cloth bound red books, with knowledge to get high on,
water flooding, taking my sanity as it fills,
threatening and suffocating, a distinct sense it will kill,
quiet times spent with a kindred spirit,
peaceful love, gently implicit,
an old diseased man wanting to wet my bed,
chilli spice fending off monsters, inside of my head,
fancy French food and a silver train,
doctors removing my spine, black and white, no pain.

This world away,
where time strays,
logic frays,
spirits play,
feels could be more,
an opening door,

I wonder if I were to abandon this normailty I know,
never wake …into that oblivion …go.



Silk roiad Dunes, Dunhuang, China.

Disdain Poetry (mine) Larger Than they Were copyright information Copyright Sunda 2022