Table lamp bathes my room in gold, shining over the glaze.
I lay here breathing deep, flat on my bed.
She wasn't here & i was alone
But alone was normal and alone was loved.
Nothing to do, o nothing to do..
Lazy yawns but no embrace,
Lady Nap chose note to kiss me.
Here i lay, wondering why,
Eve took that apple, wasn't it always there?
She din want to know naked, she din want to know sin.
And she was innocent for she was plain ignorant,
Adam was a dumbass with kidney for brains.
Nd there was he, the despot, God.
He was a despot to 'forbid' the apple.
For to crave for it was the original sin;
Sin, as it was 'forbidden' by Him.
1,2,3,4,.. round and round ..
Counting was futile; the fan is so stupid, fast.
Apple was smoke, so was Eve.
Adam blamed God n he too vanished,
Leaving Him, smiling at his own omniparient folly.
That wasn't a proper usage?
This is no poetry?? who cares,
I have nothing to do..
Lady Nap is unwilling, she needs to be forced,
She always gives in, for she loves me...
oh hell, i'm not high, atleast not as high as you..
you the normal people, your striking normalness..
Another insomniac blabbers.. i have nothing to do.
But then you read.. may be.. just may be.. you got nothing to do....