October Poem 13

The horizon started to sing its lullaby.

I drooped near my sleep.

I only had to sleep below

Without having my consciousness

Streaked with a gloss of black.


I would be out on own, my arm hanging off.

The other, the in, as I called it,

Soon took to leach off countless rear ends.


I had heard a loud sleep

In woven excitement.

My cousin had alarm,

Buzzing with confusion.


My mind was brimming automatically

And forced itself out through my throat.

I trekked across side of the bed

And my leg, grime of urine and bare forearms,

Jolted awake in the middle of showers.


The tales.

They were tales of noise.

My cellphone in the rifles

Fitted with bayonets

That just got the hang of caller I.D.


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