blue before sleep

what little truths i know
repopulate the brain
the emptiness of thought
the blue terrible sound of other peoples' thoughts
the logic of the quotient of the pink in the glass, the drink i mixed
and the terrible amount of light pouring from its well
the round signals we receive from lips of grandmothers
a list of things that leave when i close my eyes
unlatched from small beginning and rooted back into fantasy.


i have no base to stand on
words define me
having no definition
a word alone is nothing
there has to be a specific kind
and so words alone are unspecific
they have a sort of following
and that is us
and without it they don't belong
they don't exist
and without them we barely do
and there is some logic, some tool in me
that wants to exist, that wants
to be brought to bear its meaning
but i cant tell how i'm supposed to handle it
someone please tell me how i'm supposed to handle it.



a rupture in my stream of thought
when i lay down at night
and eventually sleep is dispensed
like food for starving.
i belong in the space of nothing
the starvation of the mind seeking insanity
the blue chorus of unnoise
and perhaps on waking i will bring back
some reminder of this faith, that i exist.