“Every poem is an experience. Words are like human flesh wrapped around the soul. To truly experience poetry, you have to peel past the words.”

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Half-Awake

Bleary-eyed, puffy cheeked,
Half-awake, the other asleep
A war is waged, the neutral zone
No Man’s Land, you’re all alone.
Thoughts are made, and then are lost
Like smoke rings.
Or rain drops.
Time is a sieve that deceives,
A second is an hour.
The countenance turns dour,
Under the unwavering line that lies ahead
Lying in wait, but the lolling head
Lolls around, searching for a pillow,
Drops of drool shine under the glow
Of lights that burn for eternity,
As if sailors lost in the crashing waves
Would be saved by the all-encompassing sight
The Eye of Civilization, resplendent in its might-

Blink, back to reality
The eyes close on their own now.
All-nighters lead to insanity
Unless you have the real know-how.

The key is to avoid it at all costs,
No matter what they say
For ’tis simply a measure against time already lost
A last-ditch effort, better than to pray.