Insomnia Thoughts

30 days is a long time not to sleep.

30 days is a long time to know Silence,

and Silence is not of the most amiable types.

Typewriter clicks turn to deafening switch gun blasts at 2:35 am,

when the tic-tock of a silver watch hand

becomes synonymous with a heart-beat, and then not.

Sleep used to be a welcome road into a reality of the unconscious,

but now dreams have found their way onto paper,

and walls have become canvas for Her inky thoughts,

which drip slowly like gasoline, or a recipe gone seriously wrong,

or far too much mascara in the rain.

I found this folded in a notebook from highschool

she stands resolute and pure

wet hair, cotton dress,

smelling of soap and colgate.

The room is bright and the weather

is hot and dry.

the water on her body already mingles with sweat,

and noon has yet to come.

Without brushing her hair,

and with lips devoid of paint, she steps outside to feel the sun on her skin warming her and drying her. Filling her stomach and healing her mind. She raises her face with closed eyes, feeling the faint and trickling breeze from the cavernous and fantastic tree rooted next to her. And she begins to dance.