SLEEPING RIGHTS

Something in my crooked head
Reeks of jealousy and hatred
Right before reality seeps in
I figure a thought that's creeping
In the shape of vanished ideas
Rare so much yet still not clear
Upon the ceiling drove past a car
Halted for a while and went afar
Licence to such clowns comes so easy
Some light and the shadow goes sleazy
Two past midnight; they're going home
Back to luxuries that remained alone
Often overflowing tumblers do backfire
How much liquor does man a require?
Each day new quantities measure state
Washing down exquisite sides so late
And then the walk up to their sedans
So irregular after performing sun dance

Inside their bedroom lingers the scent;
Fragments too of synthetic amends
It's not the perfect time to change
And into more suitable apparels arrange
The body they carried is only gloating
With condescending wine; within floating
Inside of another nightly home
An infant howls in painful undertones
Woken by flashes of cruising motorcars
On sunbaked walls with sealed in stars
By time the cars fit into their spots
Sleep decays and slumber rots
A mother begins her humming again
That drench her infant in a dreamy rain
His father is a different story
With a blackened temper of the quarry
He puffs his vexed temper aloud
In rising palls of dense clouds
And just before the filter intercepts fire
He stubs his silent rant and expires
Into the remains of a wrinkled night
In his land, sans any sleeping rights
Where ruptured sleep of the deprived
Lose the trial and the convict thrives
Upon conventions of a society civilised 
And yet so uncivil to my waking eyes

-K.G.