literature

Tempo

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LyricalLatency's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

I make awkward first impressions with bed sheets
clutching to them like memories I so desperately want to have
while breathing slow, 37 beats per minute on the metronome,
into what I imagine is the nape of your neck.
They don't know me like the last ones.

I find no comfort in my comforter
when I wake three times after midnight to find my eyes open,
breathing now slowed to zero beats per minute,
my head throbs and I feel veins in my neck bulge
like serpentine ridges beneath the desert of my skin;
I've tried to strangle myself with headphone wires again.

I peel them out of the crevice they have made,
wincing not so much from pain
but at how this must look like from my pillow's perspective.
So, I clean the blood off
and hold it tight.

I can say "I'm sorry" in three different languages
but my eyes have drained all the liquid from my mouth
leaving me to croak;
A frog without a fly
A stranger in a strange bed
Caught up in a dream I have not yet had
3:09AM

Just woke up... been working in my sleep again... Had this idea... wrote it.. back to bed.
© 2011 - 2024 LyricalLatency
Comments21
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breathingglassstars's avatar
this is like waking up from a dream you can't remember mixed with dirty houses and people you don't want to remember...
it's wonderful

:heart: