deepundergroundpoetry.com
Trying to Find What to Do with Myself
The day collects voices. Echoes.
All day long I can hear it,
The incessant hum caused by
My haunting loneliness and ache.
Sweat drips from my brow. It's
Crystalline,
A strange sort of chime,
It means I am alone.
I try to fill the hours
Like water jugs. Perfect lines
Of liquid. Perfect lines
Of thought, of action.
Or at least, til sleep comes.
There is not much worse
Than sleepless nights,
Being truly alone with oneself,
Nude, softly grasping.
All day long I can hear it,
The incessant hum caused by
My haunting loneliness and ache.
Sweat drips from my brow. It's
Crystalline,
A strange sort of chime,
It means I am alone.
I try to fill the hours
Like water jugs. Perfect lines
Of liquid. Perfect lines
Of thought, of action.
Or at least, til sleep comes.
There is not much worse
Than sleepless nights,
Being truly alone with oneself,
Nude, softly grasping.
Published 31st May 2018
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31st May 2018 11:03pm
Fine lines about loneliness, Toni. I have a few sleepless nights of my own. That true solitude, and the grasping, is something I'm familiar with. Really enjoyed!
1st Jun 2018 1:27am
This is so pretty and relatable, with its soft ending, your confessional style conveys feelings well, so exemplified in this poem..
Anonymous
- Edited 27th Dec 2019 12:45pm
1st Jun 2018 6:20am
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