watching the last colours
grey, mauve, dirty white
distant layers of lost coral
disconnected in the dark
the tip of my nose feels cold
a quiet feeling at five pm
the coral layers are no more
between twilight and the night
my whole nose is cold now
Poetry | Stories | Photography
watching the last colours
grey, mauve, dirty white
distant layers of lost coral
disconnected in the dark
the tip of my nose feels cold
a quiet feeling at five pm
the coral layers are no more
between twilight and the night
my whole nose is cold now
Night turns to day,
Day turns to night.
Night and Day become
meaningless states of being.
Insomnia takes hold,
a cursed Monday child;
the moon loves them so.
Writing in the cold and quiet
night where dreams once lived.
Where have our dreams gone?
Dreams have taken over the Day.
Deconstructed horrors, terrible acts,
death and torture, our daily drugs.
Gorging on nightmares throughout the day,
wishing for dreams to stay in the night-
Far away.
Assist the night
Stay up until the light
Reading tonight