BED SHEETS

I can’t see past the sheets.

Texts emails and tweets leave me defeated.

My noggin completely bogged in messy tangled sludge,

Like hidden nails in mud that you keep standing on,

Trick occurrences you’re left stranded on.

I can try and sleep but it won’t stop the soul from weeping.

Bleeding needs not being met.

Skin sweat wet.

Groin moist pits feeling cheated beneath these sheets.

These sheets like concrete meet my calloused feet.

You’d better surrender,

Struggling is not worth the extra pushin’,

Get your head on the cushion.

Shone blonde skies appear as lies today,

You and your bed have special ties today.

It’s nothing new,

It’s old hat,

It’s revisited like you dug it out the U-bend tired saturated cats in the rain with no coats.

Unimpressed Anecdotes.

It wasn’t because the sheets were the whitest white,

Like marshmallow clouds in the holiest light,

Or gospel like the shroud so I gave up the fight of a normal day.

There is nothing attractive in this,

It is not fun,

It is not normal when the sheets have won.

–

Written by Ted Rogers “Artpornblog”

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