Asleep on a bed

of broken glass;

no ease, no dreams,

no rest, no ass

– alone-

Cursed to sleep

in my solitary prison.

Better here dead,

than there and living,

at least there is the virtue of


to sleep, yet body moving;

mind left un-arisen.

Essence left and no more presence,

dry out – pass out

my only defence.

Drop deeper so I cannot feel

the stabbing, piercing

of my skin.

Asleep and dreaming,

I am free

of birth and death,

love and sin.


HG – 2000-2005

Leave a Reply