Some loosely cryptic poetry written under the mind distorting influence of insomnia, a few years back.
The 2am ramblings… lacking definition.
Again (2): The Strange Mosaic Inn (3,9)
Down ‘dan… (4,3,3)
Across …confused, or beat. (1,5,2,4)
Grave, no? I’d say, yeah. (3,4)
(But no need for alarm.) (1’2,2,8,2)
Re: The Insomniac
Down and out…
…a cross to bear.
(I’ll be sleeping in.)
More cryptic ramblings from the Strange Mosaic Inn.
Anger in the midsts of lost days. (5)
But with time, this, I understand: (4, 4…,1’1,4,2)
With this place, I oust my chaos. (5,2,2,3)
Arse this… I’m over it.
Where is my out?
Snookered at the Strange Mosaic Inn
Little cueman rattled (4,4)
the black in the middle (8)
using the rest (3,4,8,4)
drifting against the nap. (1,6,5)
You sing everyone else
A sating sleep.