Fred Aiken Writing

Category: Poetry

just go to bed

this might just be my perception,
but i feel like i’m a better poet when
i’m sleep deprived

perhaps it’s the lack of self-editing i do,
perhaps it’s because it feels like a barbell is pushing into my chest
and i need to write this last thought, last sentence, last stanza
before i go to sleep,
whenever that will be,

i like to treat sleep like a treat
that i can only do when i’ve written so many words,
and in such a way that they’re semi-coherent,

this poem might not be all that great,
but at least finishing it finally means i can go to bed

waiting for lift off

i really hope you 
haven’t been waiting for me to continue,

because if i’m being perfectly honest,
i have no idea what’s going on half the time,
strike that,
i never know what’s going on,

this is just being made up
as i go, with little direction
as to where it’s all headed,
but if we’re being perfectly honest,
and i do feel like i can trust you, somewhat,
i don’t think

any-one is driving this ship,
or perhaps the map
got lost at sea, long, long ago

twist and turn

bone scrapes twisting
joints in motion
while fleshy eyeballs
sink further into sockets
watch watch
hear the soft tick of the pen
rubbing against malleable tissue
sponge pushing further into itself
burning and fleeing and faltering
imagine what could be next
then it is