Sonnets burn over my eyelids, too - much nicotine I sipped scorching rays of silence so dark, just too tired to sleep.. who turned on the flash button, who wants to get clicked the kid went out with a cross and a harp, feeling too tired to sleep.. the boozed street-lights wobble and cuddle, they have their own way I squeeze some strings touch some others, drink some; sound looks deep This all so still, still’s paint grey walls of cubicles, here no shadows can creep The cant-dream thingy is a proper-noun, called too tired to sleep
thanks ppl... i think this must be the most frequent reason for people to indulge in a act like poems....temperory insomania..waht say ?
yea, u kinda feel u're gonna swim n sink into th' poetry u just created, it feels like its ur own kid.....n u wanna nurture it n feel like god....
^ nahi its the kids kid ....u knw in greek phimosophy they treated the genius (creative self of a person) as a demon, who will come and give the thoughts....thus the artist was never under pressure, he / she if fails to do good its beacause the genius or the demon didnt come to him to help....same way i have kid, whose the demon !! so its the kid of the kid waht say ?
^he's lost his interust in thingys.... no more the sounds the smeells the looks keep him amused, i think his time is over !! any remidies ?