Perscription for a restful sleep,
of which I have had none for as long as it counts to say I am
a bit punch drunk
on sleepless pills and ashes.

Line up the bottles and start down the line,
delicate curve of compacted powder, swallowed down, a crescent
of the sleeping moon, and now enough to make a brigade

Arms, lithium-sloppy, reach for another candy, reach for some watered down, reach for dreamland, commisserate, dissiderata...in ipsfacto.

I would call this a cry for help.

04/11/2005

Posted on 04/12/2005
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