time stings on as my eyes form a feathery irritation.
today (how long ago) hailed of pretentious conversations,
fake segregations
and neon alterations.
yellow eyes remind me of a summer paradise,
as perfect as cascading coke and inorganic ice.
are you at my window? (i'm afraid to look)
is it you who sheaths this insomnia upon me as i shut another book?
i don't even know you, i don't even have a clue.
if you were at my window now i wouldn't recognise you.
but why does tonight's embrace refuse to sedate me?
why can't i be allowed to swim in this quiet, soothing sea?
tonight i walk the house amongst the stale air,
making desperate attempts to fall asleep, yet i fail there.
in this blank hour time tortures me.
like a lie it shows me no common courtesy.
where are you, in your disregard for the clock,
in your tantalising lock?
when i yell your name your name just
echoes back in a cloud of desperate lust.
i need one more simple race of your skin against my skin.
tonight i lie, i cry, i find nowhere to begin.
you swept all my perfumed apologies carelessly aside,
and merely lent me your old coat as a place for me to hide.
you're a whisper of my heart's wishes overdue,
and i can't stop the breathless images of you.
they drip down my mind as i sit here, trapped,
my mind frozen, my heart aching - an insomniac.
