Hyde
& Hype
I've taken a pill to put me to sleep,
my blue
eyes haven't taken the hint.
A moon
stares at me. The sun too
far away
to laugh at the joke.
Elm trees
get it, the sidewalks
choose to
ignore my sleeplessness
they're
too busy plotting my demise.
A
conspiracy of concrete.
Moreover,
I feel rainy in my heart,
a steady
drip of wet and glassy.
I feel
darkness, cold and clammy,
finding
its way through
the many
veins that carry
the red
river throughout my system.
I hear
it, my life,
drowning,
one drop at a time,
slithering
around the clots
of uneven
rust that has
labored
for years to kill me.
If I do
fall asleep tonight,
I will
not dream, not of you,
not of
her, not of red hair
dancing
on your shoulder
whenever
you forced me
to
awkwardly "get down."
Some men
dance with arms
flailing
at the air, some men
merely
swing back and forth
like
slender trees caught in a breeze.
And some
men incase their feelings
in
knotted fists stuffed inside pockets.
There's
magic in that . . .
no one
knows what I'm hiding.
Woodie
o2-18-18
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