fingertips like razors
sharpening their blades
on the skin of your back
sleep is elusive these days and when it does come it's very erratic, short bursts filled with semi-conscious dreams that i think are all about the same situation from different perspectives. brain will not shut off. found myself writing in my paper journal and using the phrase ignorant heaven and then actually realizing it's a song title. too bad i didn't come up with it.
people that know me well enough know i don't believe in regret, mistakes are made to be learned from - but still, sometimes... maybe i do.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Funeral Blues - W.H. Auden