Spoken Word

Spoken Word

Wednesday, May 6, 2015


Probably won't ever wake up,
now that I met you,
find myself struck by a dream,
broadsided by an illusion,
traveling 90 R.E.M. per hour,
wind up in traction,
immobilized by sleep paralysis,
so deep, and so comatose,
that the electroencephalogram,
would begin twitching like a seizure,
activated by the high voltage, electrical,
impulse of your smile,
causing my heart to flutter,
until your tongue roll of mine,
like a sedative and reduce my heart rate.
Probably won't ever wake up,
after you've kissed me,
test my blood for barbiturates,
declare me brain dead,
use me as a melatonin donor,
as I ingest the narcolepsy,
that you're injecting,
soon I'll be be two-stepping to
your circadian rhythms,
moon walking, altered levels of
consciousness, hypnotized by,
the touch of your hands caress,
Probably won't ever wake up,
once you've touched me,
find myself catapulted 
into a sleep spindle,
capsized by a brain wave,
floating upon a reverie,
foraging the darkness of your melanin,
for the light of your DNA,
reaching through the depths,
of your eyes for a love,
that's not there and,
a love that could never be,
so pardon me if I 
open my eyes now,
and turn away from you,
The alarm of reality reminds me,
That I'm in love with another man, and
I'd better wake up now, that I've met you!  Victori ©

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