literature

Insomnia

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Literature Text

Insomnia

The lights are off.
Lying under the bag,
I close my eyes and
I wish severely to retire.
Before my eyes appear images.
Where is the R.E.M.?

My life flashes before my eyes.
Am I dying? My chest feels tight.
I relive moments, smiles, and tears.
They feel so damn real.
I look further back
to piece together the puzzle.

I see a bodiless smiling face,
surrounded by water.
I hear music to my ears
and hopeful hands reaching.
I witness disrespectful men
and smiling foreign faces.

That's too far back,
just the beginning!
Night after hourless night,
meaningless time spent behind the wheel.
Speeding delivery for planned
drugged flowers to surprise.

Sleeping in eighth heaven,
what's this noise at my feet?
What's this comfort to my left?
What's this weight on my chest?
What's this smell that's so sweet?
And why, why is my heart racing so?

A comforting voice in my ear,
My shoulders feel relieved.
A list in my head,
marked with each remaining labor.
Too many seconds on that face,
how long till I can knock on that door?

The scenes are out of sequence,
this time line is confused.
Long midnight drive,
salty air and quarter day explosions.
Must I leave so soon?
Must I deny the embrace an hour longer?

Special times, so why the tears?
No dance, no ears?
No icy symbol of devotion?
Ah, the one-roomed coffin,
the flying demons and the clawed devil.
Must escape this humble fate.

What went wrong?
The origin of lies and
the temptation from metaphorical Eve.
If the past is forgotten
why am I still here?
Something's missing under the left breast.

Enough is enough!
The lights come back.
A pen and paper to siphon the memories.
This should be enough.
Darkness once more.
The sun, already?

By: Justin Sunday
I couldn't sleep so I wrote this poem to explain.
© 2008 - 2024 SundayPrism
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