Thin Vein
What's the mother tongue? Thin vein. Bolt gun.
Up and down. Close and part.
I lay, aimlessly staring at the wall.
Outer space; the void. I can't sleep again.
Laying on my face: one white-numb hand.
Stars above my head. Pull-out peace. Any chance of sleep?
Everyone on this planet is humming the same sound.
Outer space; the void. I can't sleep again.
Thunderous laughing, plunged in night...