I’ve got Tombstones in my Mattress
Waiting for the next certain death
To join this grave site of men and women I have not yet met
I deem it over before it begins
And I mourn these relationships
Over
And over again
I got Tombstones in my Mattress
And I practice pretending they aren’t there
Potholes and traps for all who enter these tomb filled snares
I got ash cans and grey post
That line the belly of this seam
I got construction going on
In the trinkets of my dreams
In the pit of my Mattress
I call it the dead zone
Their building a fortress
And fences
Calling it their home
And they aint even paying rent
I evicted two tenants
And could care less where they went
I’ve got Tombstones in my Mattress
And I’m prepared to burn this dwelling place
I can’t sleep at night
Without these men staring me in my face
These tombstones have been constructed for over twenty long years
And their comfortable in my bed
Playing spade and swallowing down imported beers
I’m not sad
Depressed
Or angry
I just want these men gone
They’ve been sleeping in my bed with me for twenty years too long
I got diamonds hidden in these dirt filled tombs
Being smothered by dandelions and oversized poisoned mushrooms
My bed has become crowded
And the only person I’m angry at is me
Because I have allowed these men to literally enslave me
I’ve got souls that I desperately need to set free
I keep these memories alive and I hate the reflection I see
I got construction workers knocking walls down building rooms to be filled
While I’m shoveling dirt working hard to empty this dirt filled mill
Gatekeepers come from nowhere, hired in this dark ground of doom
I’ve invited men in to fill these empty tombs
I cannot stand being cramped up in my own bed
I demised a portal
For people who have long time been dead
They have decomposed
Honestly some of them I don’t even know
It’s God awful that their locked in this trench
I’m not sure how much longer I can tolerate this awful stench
Every tombstone has a different face
And a different name
But they’re not much different at all
Really their all the same
I got all these people living in my bed
And it’s deep
It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep
I am on the brink of something really big
Tonight, these men are getting the hell up out of my bed
I want to be rid of this affliction
So tonight, I’m sure I’ll be handing out some evictions
I’m cheering you on to get them the hell out!
Guuuuurl! They gostta go! lol, I wrote this in 2013, I remixed it. I am trying to keep this blog alive, when I can’t write because my imaginary friend won’t come out to play, I find something old and make it new.
Thanks for visiting again (:
Good idea on remixing the old posts – like recycling, or upcycling.
Perhaps you might connect with Emily Skaja’s poetry collection, Brute, that I’ve featured on my blog this Sunday.
I will check her out. Thanks ❤