The Days Have No Numbers


I wanted keep foreign compulsions at bay
I wanted to stay free of preconceptions
but I’m filled to the brim with people
if you were to
put a nail to my forehead and hit it with a hammer
words would pour out of me
Bukowski would race Parker
to escape my mind
sometimes I wish I hadn’t known them
nor had I read them
I want to escape their influence
I need to erase my mind blank
or at least numb it

I can think of so many ways to numb my brain
maybe I’ll go for sticks
how about fog?
or rain
maybe even snow
maybe I’ll go for glass
or some mario
or something sour
maybe I’ll go to sleep
or watch lovers recite poetry
or listen to birds sing
maybe I’ll go to space
write metaphors about drugs

Some nights it scared me, losing the one thing
left influence-less:
my self absorption
and they always perplexed me, people who couldn’t sleep
because they were busy thinking about a person
my lack of sleep is all internal, I think about myself
I lose sleep when I don’t like who I’ve become,
when I disappoint every version of me there has been
I’ve been having a lot of sleepless nights
I’ve learnt to love them
I’ve been lost for so long I accepted it as a lifestyle
so when you’re lost and think I can help you
know that I can’t.


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