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I Couldn't Sleep (It Was Either Poetry Or The Pills Television)

By: M.H. Freeman

Copyright 2013 by M.H. Freeman

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Table of Contents:
HAIKU & TANKA..............................................................................4 I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOUR SPINE BEFORE YOU EVER SHOWED YOUR BACK TO ME.......................................................5 ALT LIT HAIKU.................................................................................6 A FORMERLY UNMOTIVATED SOUL............................................7 BEFORE EVERY SUNRISE IS A SKYFALL....................................8


The market value of combustion far exceeds that of existence.

In a world in which you're nothing if not moving, striving towards goals, there are lifetimes better spent standing still and tuning in.

I appreciate the parity of patience to constant movement.

There is no limit to the mind's ability, left to converse with and cannibalize itself, to create grand illusions.


You are my magic, my sleight of mind finale, my golden ticket; the culmination of years spent screaming at the silence, preparing blinded eyes to overhear the cascade of your presence.

Consistent love and direct current, both, are kind to unshielded souls.

I found you lying down, facing away, felled, hiding from the world which consistently poisoned the deep roots of the overgrowth of your mind. Your gentle motions repeated like dj vu, a glitch within a self-aware system that could never rationalize destroying something beautiful. That night, I meditated on trees and wind, on nature, decided that I must have been dreaming, took the wrong pill, simply because you were neither bent nor broken. Even the calm eye of a hurricane has no remorse when set directly upon the remains of a forest that only that year had grown to kiss the sky. So, I asked: What storms have you weathered? I spent seasons gathering knowledge to understand you my love resembling a first grade science project. I never completed my first grade science project, ended up flipping a quarter one hundred or so times and calling the results a study in probability. I am the type to question rather than look for answers. I've slept for years at desks, head resting on textbooks, hoping to learn the secrets within by way of osmosis. It took a while to learn that you are no project, no subject bound by the poems printed on your skin; that your subject matter applies to all aspects of my life. It took the turning of your leaves, out of season, to finally notice that the poison within your veins is simply the heavy ink of unfaithful tongues. I will no longer be the child with a lust for looking learned. I will not endure the condescending grin of another teacher who knows me by my lack of action before hearing my name. I will weather the storm until I finally understand you because I knew I would love the sap beneath your skin before you graced me with shelter from unforgiving winds.


5 7 ...angst

I'd hate for my words To detract from your beauty ...fuck it.

THE END | IT'S ALL GOOD In the beginning There was lit, then alt lit, then ...who's keeping track of these ridiculous literary sects? You'd think we would have learned our fucking lesson about isolating ourselves by way of nomenclaturewith religious denominations.


Ive been lying on my bed listening to Macklemore and paying real close attention as he takes me back to when he really started. Its not dope to be twenty five and move back to your parents basement." I drop the phone upon my chest and think about it as the bass hits. Ive done nothing with my life; I have to face it. He moved back home at twenty five; Im twenty eight and never made it out. My chest is heavy and its not the weight of my Galaxy. Its the impact of every girl stripped of the pleasure to forget me. Its the years of wasting love meant for the one who hasnt met me yet. Its the recognition of the routine, the caffeine, the nicotine binge. Its the tragedy of my life, how its been waiting to begin. I thought I made it out the first day I drove myself to work. I thought I became a man the day I stopped attending church and looked inside. It took the kick drum and a melody of a song Id never heard to free my spirit from the grips of the worst of me. It took the kick drum and a melody of a song Id never heard to find the road that leads me on to my destiny.


I am in love with a woman who wears pierced barbells on both breasts, so when she stares in the mirror and removes her top, there's always a reminder that the weight of the world rests on her chest. I am in love with a woman who tattooed lips on her skin, just so she could imagine the warm sensation of her father's loving kiss on each and every cold night that chills her toes and raises woes from shallow graves between her ribs. I am in love with a woman who tries to convince me that I'd be better off without her, who claims the breaths I loose in her name would be better spent on another who is stronger, prettier, more worthy. I am in love with a woman and I fear she is not in love with me. I am the lumberjack standing at the base of a great tree, hacking away with sharpened axe, knowing that the end can only be the fall and death of beauty that only my eyes have been blessed to see.