Life's a slur
• Written by user492322642
I slur early morning
a headful of dreams,
lost snippets sneaking
back into REM sleep.
I wake up and look
for missing pieces
in abstract dreams
but see a canvas
of broken dreams
splattered on the ceiling
like blood, 'cos, dreams
are made of flesh and blood.
I slur late noon weary
thoughts that crouch
on my desk, tired from
moving around
as work sits cross-legged
on my shoulders, saying,
"get it done by dusk,"
lest I slur in the night
a headful of dreams,
not of natural chandeliers
hung from the sky,
but of work snippets
gone awry.
I slur late night, too tired
to recall that I slurred
mornin'noo'an'night.
I have slurred all my life
thoughts, feelings and actions
forming a cocktail
of confusion,
served with cubes
of mis-articulation.
Far away I hear,
faint but clear:
"Everybody hurts.
If you feel like you're alone,
no, no, no, you're not alone",
and I slip into REM-induced sleep.
