Very Bad Archive
Almost Midnight
Slim Walter DeTurtlevain
A book lies open
A pencil discarded
Neither one touched in hours
Running on empty,
My mind runs wild
Keeping me from blissful dreams
I feel the night
Pulling with tiny hands
At the ends of my eyelashes
Pulling me into the dark
Its touch is pure nothing
Sweet and soft
But I cannot go
I must not give in
The present is pure nothing
Contrasted as it must be
With years and years
Of something
Slim Walter DeTurtlevain has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of Slim Walter's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Slim Walter's latest works: