a poem
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They say there’s no catching up on sleep, and it must be true.
In three decades I have only gotten “enough” sleep for maybe a month. Nights I stay up shouting, crying, letting the Void emerge from under these chewed up ribs and tear apart my day and life and work, shred the love I have for whoever is before me, and if there is no love there,…
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Inner Monologue – a poem for the blog because it’s long
It is quiet when I close my eyes.The monologue that turns like tank treads through the mud of Today ceases as often as mans greed is slacked. But here I am tonighta master swordsmithshoeing hooves blindfoldedhaving started work predawnand it’s not long pastthe wintry duskeyes slacking into the glass and electricity of this screen and hark!is…
Erin Oubliette 