gertrude odelia


My Nirvana

Poem by gertrude odelia

Sleep heals.
Sleep hurts.
Sleep is my switchblade knife
with a handle, nothing more than a sharper edge.
The harder I hold to it
the more I bleed.

The moment my head retires to the pillow
the blood begins to pool in my brain.
This is when I feel my ever nostalgic mind
frantically clinging
to the past.

Grasping desperately for something no longer existent.
I reminisce.
I digress.
I slip slowly into my eight hour coma.
My Nirvana.


Comments about My Nirvana by gertrude odelia

  • Roger Cornish (11/29/2007 3:17:00 PM)

    Powerful Poem!
    Roger.(Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 29, 2007

Poem Edited: Wednesday, April 27, 2011