deepundergroundpoetry.com
Underslept and Overthought
I light cigarettes from hobs
on sleepless nights of poetry
viewing "I" in third person
looks like "T" from top corners
of box-lit smoke-filled rooms
clink glass on glass, reach for
the short straws and smile
uneasily to a room of no-one
grab handfuls of hair, become
educated, decide not to go to bed.
on sleepless nights of poetry
viewing "I" in third person
looks like "T" from top corners
of box-lit smoke-filled rooms
clink glass on glass, reach for
the short straws and smile
uneasily to a room of no-one
grab handfuls of hair, become
educated, decide not to go to bed.
Published 19th Dec 2009
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19th Dec 2009 7:13am
written on one of the many nights where poetry overtakes the need to sleep and function
