words are scattered in
bed.
the sharp ones are on
my pillow.
blunt ones insist
to lay on the floor
blocking sometimes my
way to the
rest room, for i pee
more often
than normal.
i told them i am
sleepy and what i need now
is a good sleep.
i summon the bees, and
i am counting the sheep
jumping over the
fence.
i am a funnel and the words
liquefy into my head
always getting into the door again
colored letters in my sleep
still wanting to tell a story.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem