To let monotony tire my heart

I wake up.

Instead, my existence is tired.

A search for meaning compels me

to pick up worry, confusion, frustration on the way.

At last, the meaning arrives in the form of a lie

My grey drizzly day ends with the quiet of my mind

It’s funny how sleeping makes me feel alive

and I don’t travel, to travel into

the world where I show myself vignettes that I ignore

Like an old photograph with rusted memories, dreaming sweeps me away from I

The absence of pain drives tedium of life to sleep

Until I’m pulled back to disremember.

To let monotony tire my heart

I wake up.

Share this: Tweet



WhatsApp

Email



Like this: Like Loading...