*A Bedridden Call

Bedside Resolve

If entering the room

is a crime all on its own

call me a saint or a sinner.

In 3 year’s time I hope I’ll never know.
The last breath you take

should be one of resolved misogyny

and an ancient art of lunacy of  those

third party calls.

Whom hotel mattress floor symphonies

of that or my epiphanies could ever cry
“I’m Home!”
So far from those
The scarred olive arms, lost with my sensibility.
And these wayward songs seem like dreams to me,

for when I woke the slipped my mind
as I tripped, cracked my crown and bottle

of gasoline.
Of gasoline, the worst of queens

said “Leave it be.”
Just leave me be ,
I’ll never see

the world, a tall song,

will sound the same for we.

A universal,
end causality

could be the least of my worries.
If I could just say sorry so less about so much.
Because a petri dish

was an empty handed experiment

from a
Heavy handed instrument.
I watched a noble guise; I sought
just as Solomon, at least wise

slipped away.
It’s okay,
things will change.
But I think it for the worst,

for the ideas

this time may burst.

Death, the inevitable and reoccurring theme,
A eulogy, for a casket, an urn

only in my insomniatic dreams

during a child’s remembrance

and a box in my attic, cerebral contexts.

if I thought, would I stop
and if I wrote

would I choke, salty tears.
We drink therefore we are,
If we smoke then we die
And we no but we don’t care
“It’s a social experience”
A life of death reciprocate

a force of will,

limp and a kiss.

If you pass,

my words at last

might be yours to hear.

A reality.

A cataract melody
clouding my lack of sleep.
And abuse of these uniques.

it’s an innocence

or lack there of,
Whether wisdom gained

was worth,

and stains upon the page are

dark enough.

Don’t die before me.
or maybe you should.
I stopped being blunt for the greater good

of my sanity.
Let’s see if this god,
(in whom I believed)

and if I’m sure I know what is

good.
Is it another goose chase for 3?
Me, myself and thee

but you left.
So it’s we.
And what about we?
Gee,
Would THIS be your eulogy?
What a pity,
What a nuisance.
Wow, how selfish of thee.

So you're lucky,
We're lucky I'm an insomniac and that my brain and heart both kick started 

at 3 in the morning and had me writing till 4.
Thanks emotions.

Well aside from how disgruntled and sleep I am here's a new freshly written poem,
And on that note I would like to institute a new "thing";
Anytime you see an asterisk "*" before the title of the post this means that it's a new, recently written poem. Up until now I have been posting older poems, the one's I've already written and have archived and trust me there's still plenty of those but of course there will be new ones.
So keep the asterisk in mind, I like to think it will help affect how you read the poem.
Also, Along with this poem I started writing another one called "Graveyard Billings"

But it's now 4:13 am
And I have class in less than 4 hours.
And I have to get up in less than 3.

and the poem isn't done yet, so no second new poem.
But such is life.

Goodnight,
And Godspeed,
C.B. Franz