It’s Time To Sleep.

I knew what they said about me was true.

I don’t actively listen.

Conversations all hand gestures.

I will only disappoint you.

Maybe it’s time to sleep.

Put the phone away.

It’s no use. It’s not like words matter.

“Or more importantly the entity who speaks these words doesn’t matter.”

I’m tired and I can’t sleep.

All the blue light gets in the way.

Stimulated by connection.

I disconnected from you long ago.

I watch pornography on the phone.

“No! There isn’t anyone I would like to talk to.”

If only I got what I wanted.

Then there would be no need to make poetry.

Who knew living was a compromise?

Sweet death, the equanimity of the womb.

I gently drink that sugared coffee

In hopes that I can bathe in the

Cigarette infused sunset.

Everything is gone to ash

What else there is to say?

Maybe I can be foolish again.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

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