Dear Insomnia,

You’ve opened my eyes.
No, you’ve just made them hard to close.
No, still, you’ve made it pointless to close,
since the whirlpools in my head
just **** me into nightmares.

My bed has become choppy with you in it.
So I leave you there to capsize my bed.
I creep like a pervert down my own hallway,
to sit quietly,
on the ice leather love seat,
like the Little Mermaid, longing,
and to watch, with sandy eyes,
the white flash of relief,
as the ****-tube wakes.

As you know,
You can flip through hundreds of channels at 2 a.m.,
to find nothing,
just smiles, like fake
*******, selling dreams
of whiter whites
and chiseled chests.

I wade away,
abandoning my iceberg,
to spy through glass
the ******* the second floor,
my neighbor,
the moon.
I’ve come to know her more these days,
thanks to you,
and her many expressions that hide
her pale face. A mystery.
She too hides herself away in the dark.
A trait we all share.
A friend still,
navigating me back to safer waters.

Yours.