Y6week21 sleepless nights in caskets

hey, i am late again :wink: had this ready on sunday, but thought it needed a bit of tweaking and looking at it again after another night would help. didn't. well, anyways, here goes:

my sleepless nights in caskets

my sleepless nights in caskets
are worse than those with
corpses asleep on my chest and

i try to “trap them in a song” or
“stomp out the cigarette”

for the heavens over my head
are mere air, cotton and paint
to me

and when it is about to burst
from the bottom of a well
i throw my heart up
to that star-crossed sky above
and when it drops back into the mud
i hope it has cooled
i hope it has calmed
and continues to beat
like it must

…

my sleepless nights in caskets
are worse than those with
corpses asleep on my chest and

the heavens above
are mere air, cotton and paint

But at some point in the morning
I will remember a Faroese
Whom I've met in Berlin
He places the words on the notes
Like each were a seed yet to bloom
Or a breadcrumb on his way home

And as the dead shuffle back to their graves
I will remember that this
Is the stuff that I can believe in

The way his voice soars
In some of his songs
Well, it makes my day
Yes, when all else fails
Such is my saving grace

Now don't get me wrong
I don't want to be rude
Or disrespectful
But at seven in the morning
All prayers pale
In comparison

And so does the well.
(maybe repeat "the way his voice soars..." part here)

been going through this on my guitar. just strumming, no real chords or anything and it might turn into something if i manage to stick with it :lol:
cheers,
straycat.