sleeping – I Write Her

Rest In Bed

Published on September 3, 2020 by Susi Bocks20 Comments

always the dread at midnight
assuming a million attempts at slumber
closing my eyes with hope
shutting down my mind
oblivion is beckoning

when i finally do
i can’t stay asleep
waking every few hours
yet still hoping for a longer stretch
that never comes

then the light fills the room
and all i want to do
is stay in bed
sinking in deeper
to the dreams which also keep me awake

is this the prelude
to wishing for my demise
slower starts every day
feeling the energy drain away
as sleep doesn’t revive me anymore

Shontay Luna

Published on July 31, 2020July 10, 2020 by Susi BocksLeave a comment

Surprised Septolet

I
stomped inside
too loud, too quick.

She screamed,
startled
out of her slumber.

Doors Diamante

The Doors
wild, dark
refreshing, probing, satisfying.
Unique, theatrical (respect, reverence)
glorifying, worshiping, adoring
illustrious, eminent,
legends.

In sleep

In sleep’s dimmest
darkness,
it is there.
The figure stands in
the open closet,
not moving.
And she barely
sees shadow
and still silhouette
and in her room.
Until she realizes
it’s only
the mischievous
night.

Faces

Faces in the folds
of a curtain in
the afternoon sun.
In fleeting shadows
behind vibrant
light bulbs.
In vision specks
after sudden sneezing,
in opening of the eyes during
night’s reign.
And,
in my heavily medicated
presence,
the faces are
everywhere.

1-21-13

Sweet,
the sweetest sound
ever made.
The whisper from
your lips,
calling my name.
Never in the world,
has there ever been,
a sound so
sweet.

~~~

Shontay Luna is a lifelong Chicagoan who studied Poetry at Columbia College before finishing her studies elsewhere. She’s most recently published in Anti-Heroine Chic, Rigorous and The Daily Drunk. Her books include Reflections of a Project Girl and Recollections & Dreams.

If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It, click here for the submissions guidelines.

#TheShortofIt

Curled Up

Published on May 9, 2020 by Susi Bocks7 Comments

woman sleeping — Photo by Ivan Oboleninov on Pexels.com

lazy sunday mornings
cuddles with flannel
and flesh
sly smiles
with closed eyes
and tousled about hair

where the toes
say hello
and reconnect
but the brain
hasn’t quite
arrived

giving in
to an abandoning
after six days of being on
succumbing to a fluid
unscheduled, unhurried
relaxed funk

Dog Day Afternoon

Published on May 9, 2020May 4, 2020 by Susi Bocks14 Comments

My energy is sapped below the reserve.
Not sure where the strength should come from now.
It’s like pulling it out of thin air.

93 Words On Depression

Published on February 22, 2020February 22, 2020 by Susi Bocks5 Comments

consciousness
slowly erases the night
this new day
as all the others
remains the same
an abysmal state
rises with her

the sun does its best
yet light barely penetrates
the thoughts filled
with heaviness
too much for her to bear
she closes her eyes again
easily

sleep, the buffer
of the damned
the temporary fix
of the tortured
the escape
a necessary evil
for existence

this cycle repeats
until the body
and her mind
releases her
from this dark captivity
she hopes for it
needing relief to be sooner
rather than later

Inspired by Sammiscribbles Weekend Writing Prompt 2-22-20 #145

Down

Published on October 14, 2019October 14, 2019 by Susi Bocks6 Comments

Untitled

waking to a cloud
the depression strikes again
remaining in bed

Dreams

Published on October 9, 2019 by Susi Bocks5 Comments

Untitled

The alarm rings
a harsh reminder
for the day to begin
but the show from the other side
hasn’t stopped yet

A quilt-like haze
layered behind my eyes
a kaleidoscope of confusion
colored by a patchwork
of nonsense

Of monsters working side by side
Of grown men reverting to infancy
Of rock stars breaking bread
Of babies drowning
Of enemies being friends and friends becoming enemies
Of the impossible being possible

The walk of the semi-dead
commences slowly
dragging this carcass
yawning and disoriented
making a beeline for the bathroom

Bits and pieces
of old memories
laced into
the past event dujour
begins to loosen its grip

The water feels like my savior
a rescue from Neverland
showering accelerates
a sense of wholeness
the tile underfoot signals more substance

The complicated
conjuring
of gobbledygook dissipates
as the irrational
begins to fade into reality