My desire for flesh.
We will undress
And I will find
Pleasure in bed.
Yet still
In her warm arms
A chill
Thought haunts my mind
Of the bed
Where all is dead.
My desire for flesh.
We will undress
And I will find
Pleasure in bed.
Yet still
In her warm arms
A chill
Thought haunts my mind
Of the bed
Where all is dead.
At his leisure
He takes his pleasure.
A spark dies
In a girl’s eyes.
How many tills
And blood red bills
Must be fed?
All our lust
And fear of dust
Ends in bed
Waking early,
And being unable to return to the land of slumber,
Idly I wonder
About our need for sleep,
For we can not pretend
That he will not take us all in the end.
The below poem was written by Jayne King. I hope to publish more of Jayne’s work in the future.
—
The birds have started to tweet,
Night is turning to day.
Yet I haven’t had a wink of sleep
The Land of Nod seems far away.
Slowly colours are emerging
From the growing light of day
Lengthy shadows, too, have formed
Why is Nod so far away?
Dawn has broken,
Unnatural sleep comes my way.
Have I become undead?
Awake at night and sleeping during the day.
(Copyright Jayne King).