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clmathew May 23
Written on my soul
written May 17th, 2021

Some poems
are written
with pen and paper
in the light of day.

Other poems
are written on my soul
when the night is so thick
no light will pierce it.

They all come from the same place
and must be written
either easily or through hard labor
with trembling and tears
ink the color of blood
waiting for dawn
to reveal what was written
the night before.

Often I am scared to look
and fold it away
to look at another day
when I am feeling stronger.

What was written
on your soul last night?
clmathew May 22
Still Night
written May 14th, 2021

The stillness
of dark night
surrounds me
swallowing the light
suspending animation
sinisterly whispering
stealing my breath
stifling me

and I wonder
how long will it be
still night.
So many "s" words! I do love when it makes sense to focus on something like that. Spent a couple days running to my notebook to write down another one. But not too many "s" words at one time. And I loved the opening peaceful still night, to the ending, how long will this night go on? lol. Oh the joys of insomnia.
clmathew May 21
I wait
written May 9th, 2021

I wait
for the sun to rise
so I can see
if the trees
still reside

I wait
for those who slumber
to wake
so there is the possibility
of  . . . ?

I wait
to know the question
so I can search
for the answer.

I wait
to find the key
that makes it all
make sense.

I wait
for the tears
to start?
to stop?
to know why I cry.

I wait
for daylight
so I can cultivate
something other than

I watch
my cats sleep
in the middle
of the night
I wait.
There's a few poems about not sleeping. This one was in the middle of the night. Waiting.
Alexandra May 12
I cannot sleep, my mind races. Tumultuous, colours and sounds racing against an indecisive current. Does everyone think this way? Thoughts too fast to catch, to read, to understand. Floundering in a bankless plain of water with neither tide nor stream to guide it. I wish it was still. Still for me to concentrate. Still for me to be at peace. To still this anxiety. To sleep.
I blink the room to a distant light source,
the power shifts, a balance or blue and black,
Black and blue goes my heart,
as my mind argues if I did everything,
My eyes know this haze, heavy workload has weighed down these lids,
Unable to scavenge, left to rely on a system that tends to repeat,
that tends to repeat,
I blink the room becomes a distant light source,
No matter how far I can feel it's indifference,
1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4 Mississippi,
Is the distance between me and the next crash,
Sipping on the adrenaline kicker,
That between the moment of here and now is a very long time,
1 Apple, 2 Apple, 3 Apple, 4 Apple,
Seconds don't always repeat,
What should I do today?
I blink the lights to a blue a lot of us know.
Carlo C Gomez Apr 27
Metropolis is dust,
the smoke of unfaded coffin nails,
she's a sensual bonfire
littered landscape,
the burning lust running in my veins
between safety and risk,
circumcising the stage
where Dylan went electric.
"I didn’t belong to anybody then or now.”

Swing-shifting to mercenary mode,
but sinking my face value
by ordering takeout religion,
sharing a cab with Hepatitis C,
and all those sky-high boxes
and rectangles
—existing in one, spending nights
with her in another.
"Oh, lay me down to sleep
upon the trickery of time."

Adam Kinsley Apr 19
Acute to the place from where my regret will stem
It's 4:30 AM: my thoughts condemn
Anxiety floods my synapses

Regret is a dish best served deceived
With my own two ears, I heard the truth
But, I still had not believed

I speak from a place of squandered ambition
Of fecklessly feeble, and imprudent volition
I buried my treasure, and forgot where it was when I turned around

Indulging my sloth, my lust, and pride
My conscience was seemingly silent
Though many times, I should have died

I sold my costly soul at once, to buy a gin and tonic
Hello my name is Adam, and I'm a hopeless alcoholic
So, at 4:30 AM: my thoughts condemn

And, my tenuous will fell asleep already...
Guess at what time I wrote this?...
Ryan Apr 19
my demons work
the graveyard shift
i live my day
weightless and free
but when night comes
my demons wait
with chains for me
ready and glad
to drag me and
my dreams away
people always ask why i can't sleep at night. written at 2:58 am.
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