The Blackened Ceiling

The Blackened Ceiling

A Poem by Benjamin

There is no time more confusing than

the last minutes till sleep;

The mind wants to reap itself,

consume itself and keep me

from knowing why.

--

Falling fast in a vast space below,

a race to the bottom they-got-him,

quite grim they say without a limb

to show for it, but maybe the pit

was worth it.

--

Maybe Death's touch comes every night,

just a brush with him and dreams will bite.  

© 2014 Benjamin


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There is no time more confusing than
the last minutes till sleep

Maybe Death's touch comes every night,
just a brush with him and dreams will bite.

I like the idea of dreams/sleep and death. In REM sleep we dream and in NREM sleep we are basically paralyzed (our muscles are relaxed) and our temperature drops. I don't know if you knew this or not but you depicted it with death pretty well. Great work! :)

Posted 10 Years Ago


Benjamin

10 Years Ago

I did not know that, but I have actually had the experience of waking paralysis. I woke up and foun.. read more

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Added on February 2, 2014
Last Updated on February 2, 2014

Author

Benjamin
Benjamin

Amherst, MA



About
I am attending Hampshire College in Amherst Massachusetts for Creative Writing and Music. I love how poetry and music intersect with rhythm, tone, and feeling. more..

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