My poetry flourishes in the lacking of Sleep.
R.I.M.
Tired.
Sleep.
She drips away as she dozes off,
Heavily.
Deeply.
She plunders into a deep sleep.
She is gone.
Away from this world,
but she is present where it is most important.
It's a fight.
SHe is not getting through.
It is different here,
bombs or more clear.
One's gone.
The next is through.
No think's required,
What happens will do.
A pinch.
Squirmy, squeals.
The humid skin flutters,
Shutters.
Awake!
