why s t important to be meaningful; i dont write as meaning flows in thru the night into my pen and poses itself on paper; the chair creak on the floor, the kitchen s empty. the light of the tube s white empty spreads the room, the walls bristle with activity, living organisms pop their head out, the bed invites, relief, on a bedsheet, as the last thots murmur like a bee over my eye lids my ears ring with the familiar whish of the fan, scary it can turn so quick, the cold s comforting, the memories not so much, troubled, yet the bed's c0mfortin, the bed's comfortin, the bed's comfortin, sleep waits on me by the head of m bed..my last glance at the windows and the red and white checkered curtains that sway in the fan's breeze.. my life as sleep, seeking of relief, and yet i walk from pillar to post in my dreams unfamiliar to the world or myself i sek sleep or relief,relief