Insomnia
I hate that thing my mind does when it decides
To wake me up in the middle of the night
Just to remind me of everything I’ve lost.
The cracks in the pavement,
The trenches on the roof.
The hidden places where I hid myself,
And the dangers of daring too.
I remember the pain that doesn’t spring up except
When I’m drunk on stress.
I remember the horror of my threat-like thoughts
And the stench of distress on a calm night of autumn air.
I remember the dance of dread in my head
When I broke into pieces on the bathroom floor
Looking for solutions that didn’t exist.
I remember the trickle of trauma
And the anxiety of living in a world
Moving too fast for those of us
Who have to fight to get out of bed.
I try to focus on the eloquent expression of the clock,
I try to center myself,
I try to put aside my thoughts.
But time doesn’t hold still
For me or anyone else;
It goes on to obliterate space
And turn night into day.
That’s when I look around
To catch a glimpse of the aftermath
And the rhythm of the night’s decay.
I fight to get out of bed.
I fight to get out of bed.
I fight to get out of bed.
Then I’m left to wonder if I’ll ever rest again.
