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Insomiac Youth

by Christopher Shin

Early in the morning,
and my mind wonders
about the same rambling
thoughts of the night before
and the night to come.

Water burns brown as vanilla hot
water strain the herbs in
a half and half cup.
With busy honey sweeten
the bitterness.

I stare at blank pages,
and the white seems
to snow over the plainness
in my empty thoughts.

Yet for a city that never
sleeps the witching hour
endsd all hopes in
my insomnia.

No more late night coffee shops,
instead a cup of tea in the
realm of feline that wander
through my small nook in
their indepedent ways.

Yet I'm still driven each
night as lyrics and songs
connect me to the world in
my hopes and faith in
Pathetic words as I
type them like a bottle I toss
into the empty sea.

So in the end I write,
and dine in empty dreams,
and empty mes.

09/07/2007

Posted on 09/07/2007
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin

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