I hear voices --
a cold burble of voices --
too dim and distant
to extract meaning,
too inexplicable not
to inject a rationale,
or a slate of reasons:
-madness
-conspiracy
-expectation
-the impulse
toward void filling
minds despise quiet,
filling it with
puzzling prattle,
and making any
hash of sound
into cryptic natter,
until sleep descends
This entry was posted in Free Verse, poem, Poetry and tagged Free Verse, Hallucinations, Hypnagogia, poem, poetry, sleep, Vers Libre, Voices by
B Gourley. Bookmark the
permalink.