haven't slept too good

i've been wearing my patience pretty thin
and the ghost in my reflection is here
the dark circles like glasses
the shaking palms
I haven't been to sleep
at all
Nary a woman feast eyes on this frown
too complicated to communicate an emotion with sound
my eyes peer up but always fall down
in the winter cold sticks
buried in the ground
the plastic nerves
will melt in time
they'll stick to the inside
like wax in dollar store candle light
I'm pacing off further and further from the point I came from
a mourning place, I mean morning place
where the sun hits my face
as erase all I've written down.