at night the insomniacs come out to play

they grab fistfulls of their hair and howl at the moon.

the hollows under her eyes
got deeper
as invisible hands
scraped further.

At the end of the night,
I will bow,
In one swift motion,
As the pressure releases,
Like the beat of a butterfly’s wing
Or it’s gentle heart.

At the end of the night,
I will drift off,
In the ocean of my mind,
Asleep at last,
I free fall through space,
Like a shimmering bubble,
Formed by a child’s breath,
Sent off into the word,
*Careless and free.

the night sky looks sickeningly beautiful to an insomniac.

Thoughts racing through my head. Repeating every moment, every situation. I just want to leave the waking world behind. And let the two lights become eclipse by night. Oh, how do I just want this tired mind to feel at ease, to let the world cease. But I don't think that wish will become reality.

The only difference between day and night, is that one is dark and one is light. The only difference between day and night, is if the sun is out or if the stars are shining. I see one pass by, I close my tired eyes, and wish for a moment of rest.

Recreating and changing situations, what could have been and what could have happened. Thoughts, ideas, memories going back and forth. One thought always comes up, "when will sleep finally take me in, and let my mind and body rest."

I am an insomniac. And I don't need rest, these thoughts makes my heart beat out of my chest. I don't need sleep, because I have these emotions to keep. I don't need sleep.

I see the sun start coming up, and I think back to the tornado of thoughts that just went through my head. Say to myself "to hell with it, let your mind go blank". I see the sun shining bright, hear the sounds of the world waking up, my mind was just a little late, but now the sun is the moon, as my mind and body finally give into the temptation of sleep. My last thought is "just another night down, at least the moon and stars kept me company."

My therapist told me that
I should try remembering something good you did for me,
Instead of focusing on the bad
I told her nothing good ever came from what should have been good from you
She said that there must be something,
That I would think of it eventually
She suggested I make a list
     Good on one side, bad on the other side
In my head, I think of how ironic that is

So here I am
At 5 in the morning
And I've been tossing and turning,
Racking my brain for your something good,
When all I can see when I close my eyes is yours,
And how alike yours are to mine
I write that down on the bad column

I’m staring at the bad,
Searching for your good
Coming up empty, not for the first time this week (the past 5 years)
I turn the page over, looking at the back bad column
      Your bad filled up the front already
For a second, as I’m flipping back and forth,
Trying to make sure I didn't leave something out,
I wonder if I would make you proud

I’m temporary sidetracked by the fact that you would probably be proud
Of me,
Of the me I am now,
The one that sees a therapist
And sees your eyes when I try to sleep
Yeah, it’d probably make you jump for joy
To know that you've ****** someone else up for a change,
Instead of just getting ****** and not in the fun way

6 a.m. and I’m still thinking about that empty side
How the page isn't even and why that bothers me
I think to myself of revenge, ways that I could hurt you like you did me
I write that on the bad side too, even though it’s the bad side of me
      Not just you
I’m wondering if I would have been writing this list,
Instead of sleeping, if you hadn't came into my life, my family

6:15 a.m. and I’m doodling in the margins
Drawing pretty flowers, watching them get droopier as I move down the margin
I start to remember the electric blue nail polish your mom gave me
When she came to pack your stuff and take you with her
That used to be my favorite nail polish
I add that to the good list
To this day, I never found that exact color
I add that to the bad

I’m sure I have a creepy smile on my face;
Taking into consideration, that the only good thing I can think of from you,
Wasn't even from you
As I get settled back into my bed,
I think of that day when the giant U-Haul stopped in our driveway,
Coming to get you for the very last time
I add that U- haul to the good list

When I feel myself finally drifting,
I finally think of an actual good thing you gave me;
The best thing you gave me,
I think of you getting in that U-Haul
And never coming back
I add that to the good side

sometimes the navy hue
of 3 a.m. and the patter of
raindrops sinking  into
cracked concrete is enough
to console me into sleep. sometimes

it pains the bruises on
my heart slightly too
much that it aches to shut
my eyes; you always loved
the scent after rain, and i always
loved you.

I am an insomniac by association.
I associate with sleepless nights and mindsets that are too wobbly and shaky to be anything less than a tornado.
I want to rename my veins after hurricanes.
This one's Sandy because it washed away the girl I loved in New Jersey.
Because the ocean is never as salty as my cheeks after I kiss her through the miles.
Because I am not a boy, because my mother thinks I wear black because I used to slit my wrists.
Because of my tattoos that whisper of their memories while I lay in bed counting the stars I can't see.
So I start counting the stars I see in my head.
So I started taking drugs that made me see them instead.
I am an insomniac because I want to sleep but only when I remember the reasons why I can't.

-      She was a dreamer who lived in
an insomniac world. Nothing came easy…
      every time she tried to begin,
she would stumble and fall, but that
    didn’t stop her. Although she thought
differently...her will could withstand anything
    thrown in her way, just another challenge fought.
The past haunted her days, shadowing almost
      every move…every single breath. Time
always promised to make things better,
      but she knew better than to find
truth in those words. Truth lay somewhere
    far from where she had ever let herself dream,
too heavy from all the weight she carried.
    There was only one time she let herself lean…
letting her weight get the best of her, thinking
      she could find a way to dream peacefully forever,
but even then she failed to succeed.
      She lost the ability to hold her world together.
   Indifferent to the world, numb to all
emotion, she lost hope in being set free.
   The darkness surrounding so great; faith too small.
So she poured her pent up pain,
     into artful master pieces.
She sketched abstract obscurities
     that depicted her darkest of secrets.
She painted intangible thoughts and
   feelings she longed to be fulfilled with through
majestic words that put anyone who dared
   to read, in the footsteps of her soul. Broken and blue
she crafted old warn memories into the
     picturesque landscapes of her wildest dreams. She
elegantly danced with the monsters under her bed and
     gracefully with the skeletons in her closet… breaking free.