Insomnia;
of hopes and dreams
tethered to the brink of eyelids-
blink and they're gone.

These thoughts they atrophy
amidst the badgering chaos,
the harshest cacophony, yielding
to the force majeure- the zeitgeist.

Every dream
and every waking phantasm
allude to unkept promises
made to reflections.

Oh how a single beam of light,
straight and unwavering,
scatters as it passes through the fractured mirror
wielding phantoms of a former presence.

Alas the evidence is confounding:
coffee cup rings and half-written lines,
tousled sheets in empty confines,
and hollow eyes with empty stares.

These pieces of a jigsaw,
as disjointed as are confronting memories,
are just as they seem: determinants
of a bigger, scrambled picture.

C'est la vie!
These thoughts they atrophy.
Plateau. Patter.
Gone.