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~Sleep~ — % & 2:37 AM The poet isn't sleeping ton

~Sleep~ — % & 2:37 AM The poet isn't sleeping tonight. His unfinished work has kept him up. He is searching for a bunch of metaphors under his pillow, looking for a handful of onomatopoeia in between the creases of his covers. And eyeing at his dreamcatcher with longings filled in his heart to filter him some alliterations. Amidst all the din and bustle, I fade there in the dark, waiting for the moment the poet will catch my glimpse. And the clock hits 2:38. 2:38 AM The vagrant isn't sleeping tonight. The rumbling of his stomach is the devil, this time. Moreover, the honking of vehicles is making it worse. Cold winter nights, shivering on being nearly blatant on the footpath; I, trying and failing everytime to conjure the eyes. The exhausted eyelids are weighed down but by an agony - of witnessing the same sleepless nights for an aeon now. Amidst all this pain and sufferings, I sit there by his side ruing at my impotence to calm his shivers. And the clock hits 2:39. 2:39 AM
~Sleep~ — % & 2:37 AM The poet isn't sleeping tonight. His unfinished work has kept him up. He is searching for a bunch of metaphors under his pillow, looking for a handful of onomatopoeia in between the creases of his covers. And eyeing at his dreamcatcher with longings filled in his heart to filter him some alliterations. Amidst all the din and bustle, I fade there in the dark, waiting for the moment the poet will catch my glimpse. And the clock hits 2:38. 2:38 AM The vagrant isn't sleeping tonight. The rumbling of his stomach is the devil, this time. Moreover, the honking of vehicles is making it worse. Cold winter nights, shivering on being nearly blatant on the footpath; I, trying and failing everytime to conjure the eyes. The exhausted eyelids are weighed down but by an agony - of witnessing the same sleepless nights for an aeon now. Amidst all this pain and sufferings, I sit there by his side ruing at my impotence to calm his shivers. And the clock hits 2:39. 2:39 AM
sweta4132656961037

Sweta

New Creator

2:37 AM The poet isn't sleeping tonight. His unfinished work has kept him up. He is searching for a bunch of metaphors under his pillow, looking for a handful of onomatopoeia in between the creases of his covers. And eyeing at his dreamcatcher with longings filled in his heart to filter him some alliterations. Amidst all the din and bustle, I fade there in the dark, waiting for the moment the poet will catch my glimpse. And the clock hits 2:38. 2:38 AM The vagrant isn't sleeping tonight. The rumbling of his stomach is the devil, this time. Moreover, the honking of vehicles is making it worse. Cold winter nights, shivering on being nearly blatant on the footpath; I, trying and failing everytime to conjure the eyes. The exhausted eyelids are weighed down but by an agony - of witnessing the same sleepless nights for an aeon now. Amidst all this pain and sufferings, I sit there by his side ruing at my impotence to calm his shivers. And the clock hits 2:39. 2:39 AM #yqbaba #restzone #rosesofproses #ew_lf_sleep