Thursday, June 30, 2011


A heavy-set night with sleep
bloated with sad thoughts
They squelch in the mind softly
Each set of them chosen in weird lots

Somewhere the heavy sleep thins away
And trickles down the cheek and chin
Tears, they call it - manifestations of tristesse,
Known to bring out the dirt and hurt within

A sponge-like darkness outside
Absorbs and holds on strongly to this diluted pain
Holds on, even, with a sort of terrifying might
And that's how tears, instead of dreams, come to us in a heavy-set night

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