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There's no redemption for this bed:
The sheets are thin, the blood soaks through,
For here I chafe and here I bleed,
Where dust mites congregate and breed.
I am their succor.
And yet I spin
And gurge in dreams,
And pick apart reality's seams,
Restitch the robes I wear by day,
With parti-color plats deceive
The jaded eyes that peer at me.
This bed can never be redeemed,
Nor shall I be the lord I dreamed.

Reviews

[Arundass TP]

A beautiful poem. Interesting line's. Enjoyed reading 🙂