Night

Do you sleep in five?
Or does it take eternity?

Do you hear them crickets?
The buzzing mosquitoes?
Or is it your headphones and a/c?

Does your pulse fall
Or does it race faster than horses?

Do you get dark circles?
Pimples? Rashes? Cold sweats?
Or is it bed hair and supple skin?

What colour is your ceiling?
Or would you tell me of your linen?
Do you lean left or prefer right?

Does the darkness embrace your thoughts?
Does it bring out your worst fears?
Do you hope for tomorrow
Or do you bury your yesterday?

Tell me if you dream
Tell me if you don't
Tell me if you remember your dreams
Tell me if you are creating one

What do you think most of?
Or should I rephrase to 'whom'?

Is the night your sanctuary?
Your shelter? your foster home?
Your nightmare? Your personal hell?

Can you think at all?
Or has your brain frozen?

Do you recall your day?
Or would you rather bury it?

How many pills do you take?
Or how many glasses? Is it drags instead?
Or needles? Or hugs?

How many tears has your bed seen?
How many smiles? How much love?

Do you plot? Do you conspire?
Do you regret? Do you thank?
Do you pray? Do you care?

How much of you sees the day?
How much of the night sees you?

Tell me about your day, darling
But let me into your night..

Bookworm

It called out to me..

in the lanky, lonely lane 

I had to go in.

With every step I took

It felt as if things fit.

The slow, dull smell

of paper and books

that beautiful, slightly irritating

olfactory sensation

I touched one..

And the warm old

feeling returned

One no mechanical device

could ever whisper back

At the end of the aisle

A sharp, alluring smell hit me

A blend of coffee and chicory

Pulling me towards it

Enchanted, I stepped

in the direction of that 

lascivious smell

I saw a pot boiling

And a man tending to it

With the love it deserved

I was desperate

The smells, the touch

from a very familiar past

My desperation was pointless

And I walked away

Hungry for books

Hungry for coffee

Hungry, so so hungry..