Half Asleep With a Full Mind

No Sleep makes me feel anxious.

Am I anticipating life, is this dangerous?

Certain thoughts keep replaying.

Falling asleep in 30min increments.

I now understand why sleep is the cousin of death.

Maybe that’s why I’m afraid? T

he explanation of so many nights spent wide wake?

Regret must be the kin as well.

I attempt to adopt Confidence.

Never think your too good for your past it shaped you?

[ Fuck That ! ]

Trying to ignore these sleepless nights,

every thing is fake; like that one day of the year in April.

That’s it !

My minds playing tricks on me again, and has the seasons confused.

This is winter, hibernate…?

Retracing steps back, to clean up tarnished dreams.

Instead my mind is freezing; because the blood I’m pumping is really cold,

I’d say about below 0°.

My eyes open wide shut, paralyzed…

Stuck — trying to define my own destiny.

Trying — to convince myself its not my baggage?

Its not my fault?

I didn’t deserve it?

Visions pretty foggy; the sun stopped shining.

I know a change is gone come,

I just don’t know if I can wait for it.

I gotta find a peace of mind;

How do I do that when I’ve lost a piece of my mind?

People talk about a race against time?

I am in a race to get mine —

Forget the paper chase, I fucked around and lost my mind.

Sometimes I feel like grabbing a piece, throwing the peace, then disappearing.

Lost in time, lost in feelings, it seems I’ve lost my touch.

I cant feel the peace within me, just pressed against me.

Shoot all thoughts of negativity that associates itself with me.

But —

I sit back and cool down.

Shaded in the background.

Summer will make its way around eventually.

No sleep makes me feel anxious…

Maybe I’m asking too much?

Maybe just a nap will do.

If only I had one wish…..

Unfortunately, Life is repetitive.

I’m no longer giving a “Fuck”, but I was generous enough to give you this poem to reflect on.



Beauty Doesn’t Sleep

With this silver bladed tongue

I am cutting through diamonds and tarnishing gold.

Watch my tongue unfold, I am spitting hollow tips.

With grip that pierces flesh and grabs onto your spirit.

I wont let go;

As long as I have hold of your soul, you’re going to hear it —

My voice that is.

Try to silence me and my eyes shoot beams like Cyclops

I’m focusing.

I can hear a feather drop,

When I’m not listening to my self breathe.


This dish is best served cold on a silver platter

Grab your silver spoon and eat this truth until your belly aches;

Your shitting the bricks that built your home

Real estate.


A great debater, but I am no competition for Washington.

I’m spending my training days writing not riding.

There’s no insured survival, but I’m not shy about taking risks.


Fist in the air pumping up the power and the volume.

The 808s break my heart and my eardrums too.


Smoke clouds fill the room.

This dramatic entrance has a certain aroma,

appearing before me I’m unsure if its the Virgin,

Or Jane playing tricks on me.

No no this Grimm

You fear death; on the other hand

I wrap the belt around my neck like a tie.


Contusions deep enough to leave my body paralyzed.

The only thing I fill, are the lines on the paper.


She got game tho, seemingly Jesus when the clock winds down.


I approach the mic with un-calming nervousness,

as if I am standing at the pulpit asking to be reborn again.


Sleeping like an infant by the hours,

I wake up.

There are ghetto birds outside my window.


I spit on the mirrors of narcissist, now they see a bit clearer.