Not overcooked. Not undercooked. Just all half-baked goodness in every write.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Will eyes on Saturday open? I think these lids are broken Sticky with a touch of slow Waking with a touch of ‘no’ Where are my feet? I’m not complete! The floor demands a meet and greet My legs Still life with covers That world Outside, it hovers Must I leap to the conclusion That I seek the day’s inclusion And reject my sleep’s seclusion Oh good grief! So much confusion I might risk a head contusion Debate inside me billows I must seek advice from pillows.