I am jealous of people
whose eyes are their portal to dreamland
& do not know
how many black stains are up on their ceiling: 12
or that counting sheep stops working after the sheep turn
into fire breathing cattle with glittering horns
which wrestle like the multitudinous thoughts fighting for attention
My mind is my portal to dreamland
& “deep breaths” only cause a temporary quake in the thoughts
Mother says Restoril is poison: she’s right
i’m with the wrestling sheep each time she locates the stacks buried around my room
& so I know it’s not a cure
yet i cannot stop buying it.
WE ARE A PEG
contorted in oath to work together,
Kissing only on breaks
Absence the right fuel
for the almost wickless candle of love
& an almost elastic feeling when bent to the limit
I can’t take this anymore. The end.
freedom calls after passing boundaries—almost.
…but maybe you’re right: I overreact
teeth on teeth, then back to start:
How could you! POW! leads to
You hurt me leads to
I’m sorry leads to
I love you
the major thing knotting us together is an almost weightless piece of metal—the watch i gifted you 4 years ago:
a reminder of the time invested in us.
Poems © Seundede Kubeyinje
Image: Pixabay.com cropped