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sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
Things that go bump in the night like the roar of the raging lion deafening your arcadian silence
Like the face of a wolf chasing you in your dreams, claws out, jagged teeth already sharpened, salivating at the scent of your fear
And the sudden crash of the lamp on the ground because your clumsy thoughts blew it off the stand in a rush of puzzling ideas and jigsaw hearts overflowing your mind

The fishnets sloshing the seas through the holes, piecing together lost trails of a failed relationship, letting the salty essence linger behind, drifting to the saliva glands inside your mouth
And suddenly you're shot up with a narcotic, straight into the veins where he used to live, vacating the premise, making room for a sense of euphoria that consumed me as a whole

A treacherous path ending with a unceasing fall off a cliff where the rocks slipped too often, and lessons were never learned from the kids next door
Cracking floorboards circumference the room where they used to talk in circles, collecting feelings and saving them inside the pockets that somehow found holes in themselves

Then the wind emulates the whispers hiding behind the fading foliage of the trees that secured everyone's trust and captivated their souls deep within
Violent kisses used to tear my skin apart until a gun to the back of my head held more depth than I've ever experienced in my whole life

I searched the sand for the purpose I wished to hold in the palm of my hands but it sifts right through the solid foundation of my finger tips that rot with poison ivy
Ever since I felt the tree that infected me with  the venom in the form of sharp bristles and empty sap sacks

Whatever the blue sky may represent, I see dark clouds forever and a day, even when the sun returns my calls, and with a bitter tone and a touch of sizzling rain, offers me a chance to see the bright side they all dream of
When the opaque sky eats the sun I find solace in home, where the stars collect my secrets like coins and hold my wishes like the hand of a boy I thought I once loved

I morph into the worst version of myself when the screams encapsulate my emotions and my face is no longer skin and bone, but vicious fangs and yellow eyes
So what, if I differ from the rest of the pack
A lone wolf or a raging lion, I am not them
And I never will be

Until the rings awaken me as my eyes flicker back to their hazel nature
And the bags roll beneath my eyes, with a darkened presence treading under
And the sun returns for the day, a gift I cannot return
And I walk down the same road, leaving the covers rumpled and the sheets entangled with one another

The mess correlates to my dreams
And all of the hearty burdens I continue to bestow inside the treasure chest deep under the ground
I shall keep these somber ideas and thoughts at the top of the bookshelf, a place you'll never look, a place you'll never find
Just smile and fake it until you believe in it's proximity to the truth
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
Tiny embers escaped the crackling fire and latched onto your pale skin
And when you felt the warmth you expressed immense gratitude towards the fire itself, though it were the embers hard work creating the fire
Despite the lack of appreciation they continued to burn up to you and provide the same connotation

Pastoral sunsets descended over the Hudson River, reflecting a palette of vibrant colors along the ripples in the water
And when you recognized the beauty of the picturesque scenery, you praised New York City as if it copyrighted the sunset itself
Although you disregarded Mother Nature's creation that spreads worldwide, the sunset stayed out a moment longer to say goodbye

Crashing salty waves echo inside your eardrums, peacefully sending you into a deep sleep
And as you fell asleep with such ease, you showed appreciation of the refreshment you felt wash over you as a slumber awaited, though it was the recurring sounds that sent you there and not the images inside your head
And aside from the depreciation the waves feel, they continue to undulate eternally, just to help a sleepless soul in need

Why is it, that you disregard the true giver of your happiness and show love elsewhere?

Broken glass pinches the skin on the underside of your toe and blood is drawn as the sting induces pain
And once the painful sensations begin, you curse the shards of glass and claim them to be the bane of your existence instead of blaming the drunken incompetent who dropped his bottle on the hardwood floor
But in a tiny squeak of movement, the broken glass apologizes but you fail to tune your ears in to the "sorry's" from the things that you hate most

A dead-end book confuses your brain that requires finite details, and anger rises up to your fiery eyes as you throw the book across the room, praying it'll burn to ashes
You failed to realize it is not the book's fault, it is the author who wrote it, but you relentlessly blame the pages and the ink, despite their endeavors in providing you with entertainment and adventure

Scorching steams held in the air above your coffee mug, you burn your tongue with the taste
smashing the mug to the ground is your idea of revenge against the execrable caffeine drink itself for being too hot
You did not choose to place the blame on yourself, for you boiled the coffee and saw the steams before you took the first sip
Although it's now splattered across the floor, the steams still wish to provide a delightful scent of hazelnut to calm the nerves that are frantic in your temples

Why is it, that you disregard the true cause of pain by blaming the non-blameworthy?

(It seems as if you cannot take responsibility for your own actions when things run amuck, but when things are delightful, you thank everything but the real reason for it's loveliness?

Is that why every detail of our love was never noticed by you, as you only loved what I could do for you?
Is that why my new perfumes never made a new impression, but you always blamed my beauty on the dress that hung over my lifeless body?
Is that why when I broke your heart you blamed me for everything that went wrong, failing to acknowledge your complexities and flaws?
Is that why a call is never returned and words are not exchanged because you poured out every negative aspect of our relationship as being my faults and deemed them the downfall of our love?
Is that why I am never enough and would never be enough for anyone?

Is it?
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
An equanimous love fell right into the palm of my hands in the form of clay and I needed not mold it,
It molded itself in the form of us digging into the center of each other's hearts and filling the darkest corners with a love that could survive natural disasters and psychotic breaks
Our shape was skewed, like our souls, but only in the best way we could possibly know
A love to last me a lifetime, it was only right to entangle our bodies together and wrap one another up in an emotional connection that could never be severed
Intuition spoke words for me when I was absolutely speechless, searching into those big blue eyes for a reason to doubt myself and coming up short
"I'm ready"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes"
The sweetness in your honest eyes and the warmness of your breath on my cheek made my heart flutter with excitement
A night I will never forget, you become a part of a memory that cemented itself inside the tiny webs of events within my brain, you outshining them all
Perfection in the form of our bodies embracing one another, becoming one true love the way we felt it in our hearts
With my impeccable track record of bad decision making, I have yet to encounter but a single touch of regret for the night we spent together
As our exposed feelings coincided with our exposed bodies I thought about it all
You being my source of water when the world runs dry
You being my source of sunlight when the world grows dark
You being my source of food when the hunger is unbearable
You being my rock when I have nothing to hold on to
You being my first true love, my first true everything
You being the first one to have me in my entirety
You are, love
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
I wanted to come home to a riddle that has already been solved, and crush the snow that has already fallen
I wanted to draw a picture that has already been outlined, and eat the meal that has already been cooked
I wanted to love the boy that has already loved me, and wipe away tears that have already fled
I felt selfish in voicing these frivolous wishes to even myself, a desire of continuities
A yearning for ease at everything in life
The emptiness of a freight train houses nothing but fallen whispers of an angry wind and the immaculate darkness that hides the emotions
The loudness of the one-track mind, suffocating wishes with plastic bags in hand
Swerving on and off the tracks like in your worst childhood nightmare, where it never ended
A purgatory of life- living while dead, or dead while living?
I tied my shoes at age 5, ignorantly crafting a fantasy world inside of my head where everything that required a struggling effort fades, and fades quickly until it skips the obstacles and leads right to the reward
A self-entitled structure of my cerebral cortex where I find them all sitting around waiting for it to take care of itself
And I cannot fast forward anymore because I am 17 and failing at life
The crackling essence of my entire nervous system breaking down at the mere thought of futures
Where I cannot wrap my wishes in pretty bows and let them come true
They do not listen to lazy 17 year olds with bambi eyes and mascara-run cheekbones
They salivate to little girls catching shooting stars in their hands and begging for the ease of life to rest at their fingertips
Now, all-knowing, wise, they let the yarn of dreams come undone until the visibility of easiness vanishes right before you
I want to come home to a story that has not yet been written, and watch the snowflakes that have not yet fallen
I want to draw a picture that has no direction, and eat a meal that has not yet been cooked
I want to love the boy that has not yet loved me, and wipe away tears that have not yet fled
I feel open to this new idea of uncertainty, a desire for discontinuities
A yearning for adventure in every part of life
The bustling aspect of the city burns my feet into the ground, holding me with nothing but the uneasiness of the cracks in the sidewalk and the illuminating lights that never fade away
I sprained my ankle at age 12, conclusively believing I would not make it through, but discovering the true talent of healing
A humble version of a once perfectionist attitude, I become accepted into the world of **Reality
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
A wreck between the brittle pages, highlights surrounding the worst of me, all you can see
Page by page you skip, context clues hidden in the blur of the pages you flip, repeat
Written in secret code, you cannot decipher the honesty, writhing between ink you cannot see
Another chapter, another phase, whisked away in a horrid haze
Another typewriter that runs out of ink, no replacements to use, tear at the pages you continue to abuse
Asphyxiate sleeping while attempting to read the ******, breath caught in lungs, the bell has been rung
The ending nears, silence never ceases, look past everything, you're gone, deceased
Recall the heavy breaths resting between each paragraph, neglected, the mood you reflected
I reside on the dusty shelf, burned down in the fire, arson your burning desire
Crumple every inch, frayed beyond repair, you have no care
Leave the words to writhe in place, a mess to forget, a person to regret
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
I.  
A rumble of a failing engine and an abandoned heart does not always make for the best mixed drink you’d typically order at the bar
The gasoline fumes rising towards my nostrils, the taste replicated on the taste buds, not exactly the main course you’d hope to appear on the main entrée menu
The shrinking world swallows my perception, and all I can see are endless forests with an unending road, not exactly the picturesque view you’d pick from the 5-star hotel you presumed to stay in comfortably

II.
Recurring whiplash carries me deep within the foliage of the woods, where the bristles from the furious trees feel like spikes brushing across my fragile skin
My thoughts are encompassed by my wildest fears, intensifying the pitter patter in my chest, nearing a detonation, but no witnesses to confirm or deny it
The limbs outstretch themselves and enfold me inside a hallowing clasp, resemblance of an agonizing chokehold
The fires begin slowly, but hurriedly strengthen into a sore, sweltering sensation that hastily seizes control over my nervous system, rendering me helpless with no one to soothe me from it, for isolation is the true affliction of it all

III.
And suddenly I am traveling through a dark neighborhood, the ones we were all warned about as adolescents, as the lamp posts house stood-up lovers and lost souls who are trying to catch a fresh thought aside from the filthy repetition we are provided with
The light bulbs flicker and the yellow paint dividing the two paths incases my thoughts, stimulating every sensory input to intake the detection of safety between the two opposite directions, because once a path is chosen, returning is forbidden
This social deprivation surely beholds my salient inner pain, as I cannot confide in anyone on this lonely road except for the shining Milky Way and smiling crescent moon, eons away from my reach

IV.
Foaming salt water crashes over me, encumbering my lungs from performing their simple task successfully, caught in a riptide sensing my discomfort with reality and self-hatred brought upon by the overriding waves that deteriorate my sanguinity
I cannot control anything in my life and the sea acknowledges this weakness, What a real favor it is! Killing me, for me, subduing the airflow right out of me but also purifying my corrupted being, freeing my aggressions, letting go of faulty hearts, and ensuring arcadia by ripping away a future I could not survive in
The sunken sailors in their sinking ships do not drown by choice, like I, but they may not be as grateful for the gift of release as I am
I realize I may have a shot at social encounters, until I gather that the glass wall that separates me from the world is unbreakable, and the water pressure is much too great to fight through, so I must die alone

V.
As my vision fades to black, I am awakened once again, stranded on this Earth, this place where life exists but living does not
And I feel like ever since the door slammed shut as I collapsed in cascading tears on the floor in your favorite white button down, I’ve been a bit lonesome and defunct, my mood has a constant sullen adjective attached to it
Adventure and spontaneity meant everything to you, and I took on the same attitude, breaking out of my comfort zone and implementing yours instead
What once was now lingers as a painful memory and acts as a narcotic because I am experiencing a difficult withdrawal of your voice, and I cannot last much longer before the insanity devours me from the inside out

VI.
As the hourglass passed all of the time, your personality withered as each interest you held dear to your heat contracted into an abhorrent piece of art, dedicated to miserableness
And as your presence no longer fills up my time, maybe I too am disappearing, or so I wish
Because losing you to yourself felt like being stranded in the middle of nowhere with an unceasing life of despondency and unanswered questions
It felt like being burned alive to ashes from a forest fire, so deep in that not a single person would notice its evanescence
And worst of all it felt like drowning, as my control slipped away from the tight grip I once had, like nobody could resuscitate me from
I play over every doting moment with you over in my head as my mind slowly fades to darkness, a blank state of depression

VII.
So tell me from the heavens once more that I do not need you, because you see what I am experiencing in your absence
Maybe I need you as a constant in my life and not a fleeting breeze in the persistently bipolar wind movements
But you bolted the moment the poisoned fog touched your fingertips and your fear took you away from me
So how can I possibly hold on, when I am clearly alone and depressed?
I know death is merciful compared to losing my one true love
Tell me you’re listening, I need someone to talk to
I cannot leave all these words left unspoken
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
That nefarious disorder that usurps my sleep every night holds the anchors above my head
And once the looming presence creates an unyielding uncomfortable feeling within me-
The anchors are dropped at once as I clutch my heart and watch my life flash by in intense but short clips reflecting off of my irises
Drowning in a waking nightmare consisting of life-altering decisions yet to be made and a ubiquitous, haunting past that never fails to ascertain me, despite the innumerable heat runs I've taken to escape it's chokehold
Wistful versus Wishful thinking keeps an insomniac busy at night- contemplating the universe's unhealthy obsession with showering sullen loads upon my already feeble stature and yearning for a change to form like how the leaves just fled the trees they were accustomed to for so long
Ruminative habits that not even the toughest of diamonds could scratch to erase them from my routine nightly thinking
But I am constantly torn between resenting every constant and vowel meant for you and all of my feckless attempts at achieving perfection
And optimistically hoping for a banishment from all negativity, and acceptance of the elation spreading faster through the airwaves of people open to recognition and reversal
But my anchors are breaking through the floor boards as my weary but restless eyes scan the page for errors and I am cautious in giving them a tug out of fear of a perpetual fall that insists on torturing me through an insomnia-flavored death-to-be
What is to ensue after countless hours of wistful and wishful thinking?
Am I to write until the moisture leaves my fingertips and the blood rushes to my head because my amygdala is housing all of my aggressions and fears, close to explosions upon anything in my vicinity?
Or am I to close my eyes and daydream of better, happier times to arrive at my front doorstep sometime in the near future?
But my overactive thoughts stimulate several situations that could play out, and the ones I decide on making permanent effects in the future are the ones that end with me crying and hopeless
Maybe the life of an insomniac is even worse than people think- it is not the fact that we do not sleep that unnerves us, it is the fact that when we do not sleep, we overthink, and when we overthink, we depress ourselves with all of the outcomes and possibilities that can arise from the most trivial decisions to the most climactic ones
My anchors act as my comforter and hold me tight during my REM sleep when the vivid and electrifying dreams and nightmares play simultaneously like a horror film I am entrapped in
I hone in on the conflict and I am taken away in shackles into dreamland, a world worse than reality
And I cannot lucid dream, so my control, my grip on the direction of the thoughts slips away and the fabrication of my unconscious takes over until I wake up every hour on the hour breathless and sweating
I awake at all the wrong times, on all wrong sides of the bed
And falling back asleep is a difficult task to carry out each time, because of the lack of melatonin that seemed to be crossed of the checklist of necessities of being born
And so the cycle ensues for the next 5 hours
And I continue this routine day in, and day out
This is the life of an **Insomniac.
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